


Fullmetal Prison

by TheLonelyTree



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Parental Roy, prison!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 31,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23200516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLonelyTree/pseuds/TheLonelyTree
Summary: Edward Elric was never discovered by the military after he attempted human transmutation. However, Ed's and Roy's paths are still meant to cross. After being framed and thrown in central prison, Roy Mustang is sent to interrogate Ed for his alchemical secrets while Ed tries to prove his innocence. Along the way, they discover secrets and conspiracies that threaten the safety of all of central.
Relationships: Edward Elric & Roy Mustang
Comments: 99
Kudos: 203





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the manga or anime and probably never will.

Central Headquarters was bustling with the usual activity expected on a perfectly sunny Monday afternoon. In the office of said Central Headquarters, Lt. Colonel Roy Mustang was currently slaving away at his ever-growing pile of paperwork. 

Mindlessly signing papers involving some conflict outside Central was not how he wanted to spend his day, but anything was better than slacking off in the presence of Hawkeye. Well, that and he didn’t have to deal with― “Yo Mustang! You’ll never guess what my darling Elicia did today!”  _ Nevermind _ .

He let out a sigh. “Yes, Hughes?”

“Oh, it was the cutest thing! She went out to Miss Florence’s yard and picked out the loveliest flowers for her tea party.”

“Hughes,”

“Only, she wouldn’t let me into her room. Just my beloved Gracia. She said it was for girls only. Isn’t Elicia so mature Roy? She’s already a beautiful young lady.”

“Hughes,”

“Oh, and for some reason, Miss Florence complained to me that her flowers keep going missing and how she was gonna report me to the authorities. What’s up with that?”

“ _ Hughes _ ,”

The first lieutenant stepped in. “ Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, sir. You are disrupting the Colonial's work.” Hughes sweatdropped at this, fearing he angered Hawkeye. Under her breath, she added, “though your interruption probably only motivated him to actually attempt it.” She ignored Mustang’s indignant cry from beside her and spoke loudly once more. “If you have something to say then please do so now.”

At this reminder, Maes Hughes took up a straight posture and sobered immediately, face grim. Upon noticing his drastic change in expression, Mustang paused what he was doing and straightened up as well. “Yes, well I was hoping to delay telling you this. To figure out how, at the very least,” Hughes began, “but the homicides in Resembool. There was another one on Saturday night.”

Hawkeye tensed considerably. Mustang inhaled sharply. “A-another one?” he gasped. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Hughes could only solemnly shake his head in response.

“I have the pictures to prove it,” he said. 

The Resembool murders were brutal. Victims were mutilated, transfigured beyond recognition. One young man had even been found missing the entire left side of his body. It never showed back up. With the increase in military investigators sent to the East, it had seemed the murderer,  _ monster _ , he corrected, had finally turned coward and run. Apparently, they were only taking a three-month break.

“I’m sorry to hear that Colonel,” Hawkeye responded.

“And to think,” Mustang chuckled mirthlessly, “That not even 50 well trained military personnel were able to deter this monster.”

Hughes grimaced. “Actually, they did far more than discourage him,” he said. “Our murderer was caught. They even have a corpse to prove it.”

Maybe it was something in his friend’s voice. Maybe it was the way he couldn’t look in Mustang’s eyes. Either way, Mustang thought that Maes Hughes believed the words he just spouted to be nonsense. He voiced his thoughts. 

Hughes wordlessly reached for the manila folder he had tucked under his arm. It had been invisible in contrast to the blinding shock that came when realizing another innocent Amestrian would no longer be able to see their family tonight. The normally cheery man cautiously handed it over to his friend, staring at the folder as if it committed the murders itself. 

Hawkeye and Mustang both turned to Hughes with an inquisitive stare.  _ Why should they be seeing this? _

Hughes met their questioning glances head on and nodded in an attempt to encourage them. Curious, and admittedly scared, the flame colonel opened the beige folder and immediately blanched. Hearing Hawkeye’s breath catch led Roy to the conclusion that she had a similar reaction.  _ What the hell? _

On top of several documents sat a picture of a blonde haired, golden eyed boy. A detailed physical description was listed alongside it, mentioning an automail arm and leg. Had it been under any other circumstances, Roy would have curiously wondered how this came to be. Probably would’ve given a glance of pity and moved on with his day. But this case was considered the most brutal and horrible occurrence of bloodshed in the East since Ishval. Dozens of murders, all accused on a boy who didn’t look a day over thirteen. Suddenly, Roy understood why Hughes couldn’t fully believe that the murderer had been found.

“Maes, please tell me this is some sick joke.”

“I’m afraid not Roy,” Hughes said. “This is the man who’s been found guilty of exactly 64 homicides on the Eastern front. Edward Elric, age 15.”

“W-what does this have to do with me?”

“I need your help, Roy. I believe that this boy is innocent. And you’re gonna help me prove it.”

* * *

“Wrath, do you mean to tell me that you’re sending Mustang to watch over that Elric boy?”

“I can see no better distraction at the given moment.”

“No better―ugh! You’ve got to be kidding me! You’re gonna lead him right to us!”

“Calm down now. This is exactly the opportunity we need. With central intelligence and the flame colonel’s attention focused on the boy, we’ve eliminated any suspicions that will be placed on the military's involvement. Let those dogs sniff about in Resembol, we’re finished there anyways.”

“And if Mustang figures out the truth?”

“If Mustang discovers something he shouldn’t then we’ll arrange an unfortunate accident for him. Say, we can move Elric to Central Prison. It holds a lot of Ishvalan war criminals. It wouldn’t be unbelievable that they were overcome by a desire to avenge their fallen comrades.”

“Well, I guess that wouldn’t be our only advantage.”

“Oh?”

“If the fullmetal pipsqueak is moved to central then we have our most promising candidate right in our grasp.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood.

To put it lightly, Edward Elric was pissed. Not that the whole week wasn’t hell. Cause it was. But something about today that was especially irksome.

It was bad enough to walk down the halls of a prison once. The prisoners back home had looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and fear, and the guards couldn’t even spare him a glance-not since the arrest. He had fallen asleep crying, their terrified eyes chasing him in his nightmares. Today was different. Even though their reactions did not send him to tears, their effect on him was inexplicably worse. These prisoners looked up to him in grudging respect or jealousy.  _ Are they seriously upset about the fact that I seemingly outdid their crimes? _ It made him sick.

And there were the guards. They did meet his gaze, if only to smirk and turn their nose up at him. That made him angry. Despite their “bravery” in making eye contact, no conversation was made, so Ed was left alone to his own,  _ simmering _ , thoughts. 

_ It just wasn’t fair _ , he thought.  _ Haven’t I suffered enough? Hasn’t Al suffered enough for my mistakes? Why should I waste my time rotting away in prison for something I didn’t do when I could be in a library searching for a way to get our bodies back. _

He shifted his gaze to the red, irritated skin peeking out from under his cuffs at the wrists. They’ve been left on ever since his arrest.  _ At least three days now _ , he tells himself. There was a stiff metal bar meant to keep his palms apart. Apparently it was made specifically for him. All the other alchemists were searched thoroughly for transmutation circles and arrays, but it was no secret that he didn’t need any to be able to transmute. However, it wasn’t padded and sleeping was impossible (save for his first night where he was so emotionally drained he would have slept upside down if it came to that). Just another injustice he would have no problem complaining about at his trial. 

Since he was so lost in his complaints and general distaste toward his situation, Ed didn’t even notice when he reached a stop. Some guy with a weird automail limb had to stop him from running straight into another guard. 

Looking upon her, Ed gulped. She had long, blonde hair, not unlike Winry’s, but she framed her face with a scowl and gave him the most intimidating glare he’d ever seen.

“Major General Armstrong, sir!” his guards saluted. Ed noticed they all stood up impossibly straighter.  _ Was the automail one shaking? _

One guard, more composed than the others, addressed her once more. “This is a new transfer from the East. He’s responsible for the Resembool homicides. F ü hrer king Bradley might have sent you a letter calling it the ‘Fullmetal case’.”

The scary lady―Ed already forgot her name―gave a deep sigh. Her words came out sharp. “Major Miles, I received the F ü hrer’s letter stating Fullmetal's arrival at exactly 12:30 on Tuesday afternoon. It is now 2:30 in the afternoon. Do you have an excuse as to why you’ve come to me two hours late?”

The man’s dark skin paled considerably. One quick glance at the others showed that they were even worse off. “No, sir. I’m sorry sir.”

The sight of four full-grown men cowering before the lady should have scared him even more. It didn’t. Instead, it relieved him. She must be important enough to have some influence over them. 

“Hey lady!” he shouted. She narrowed her eyes at him, but he paid no attention. “Could you get your cronies to take these shackles off of me? If this is central prison then supposedly―”

The major general cut in, “You listen to me, Edward Elric. That is your name, correct? Nevermind, it doesn’t matter. You will address me with the utmost respect. I am the warden in charge of your wellbeing in this prison. Be thankful that the F ü hrer was generous enough to let you escape your crimes with your life. I wouldn’t make the same choice as he.”

He started again. She was quick to interfere.

“Furthermore, you will only speak to me when I have allowed you to do so. Tell me boy, what is it you want to know?” Her question felt more like a demand. Looking around, trying to formulate his sentences, Ed discovered that he’d subconsciously stepped back from her lecturing along with his guards. 

Averting his eyes, Ed began. “You see, I haven’t had these removed ever since I was arrested. They’re uncomfortable and―”

“And you think that a murderer like you has the right to demand comfort?” She inquired.  _ Terrifyingly. _

Ed growled. “Hey! I’m not a―”

“But I see your point,” she conceded.

“Really?”

“Yes. If your wrists were to get infected then that would reflect badly on me and my men; Briggs has a reputation to uphold. I doubt you’ll be able to harm us since no one can use alchemy in this building and without it you’re powerless. Buccaneer, step forward at once and remove Elric’s restraints.”

The man wearing automail responded with no more than a “yes sir,” and yanked on Ed’s cuffs, not giving the boy enough time to process the implications of the word, “Briggs”.

“O-ouch!” Ed shouted. “Watch it!”

“Be still,” Buccaneer commanded. Then, grasping tightly onto the boy’s steel wrist with his flesh hand, he clamped the teeth of his automail onto the restraints. They snapped almost instantaneously. Buccaneer released his grip and stood to the side once he had repeated the process.

Ed rubbed his arms tenderly because the feeling returning hurt like hell!

“Thank you, Buccaneer,” General Armstrong said. “Now, you and Major Miles will take him to the infirmary to get his wrist cleaned up. Then, do a strip search and make sure he’s not hiding anything. Once you’re done with that you can escort him back to his cell.”

“Strip search!” Ed cried. “Is that really necessary lady!?” That earned him a sharp glare. “Come on! I already had one back in Resembol! I’m not hiding anything I swear!”

As he was being dragged away, struggling, Armstrong threatened, “Like I said before, I have a reputation to uphold. It’s best you remember that before our next meeting.”

Ed gulped.  _ There was gonna be a next meeting? _

* * *

In the most important room at Central Headquarters, F ü hrer King Bradly sat on his desk reviewing the Fullmetal Case. It wasn’t hard to frame Edward Elric for the Resembool homicides. In fact, Edward’s alchemy prowess made it hysterically easy. That being said, the self-proclaimed Fullmetal Alchemist was being placed in an unfamiliar and dangerous environment. The boy had no real experience in fights, and without his alchemy, he no longer has his best defense. 

The security at the Briggs section of Central Prison was the tightest Amestris had to offer and yet corruption and deceit were still common. If the boy continued to claim his innocence, more… volatile prisoners might seek to harm him. 

The guards couldn’t be expected to watch him every moment of the day. If he was to prevent Father from losing his most important resource he’d need to send someone to watch him from the inside. 

* * *

After a trip to the infirmary and a degrading search by Major Miles and Captain Buccaneer, Edward was perfectly happy to stay away from the scary blonde woman for the rest of his life. Well, he already thought that at their earlier encounter, but as the day dragged on, he knew it even more so. 

Maybe he’d gone a little overboard on the complaining because Buccaneer snapped at him, threatening to gag him if he made so much as one more sound out of his mouth. Ed argued that the action would be considered a violation of prisoner rights. Of course, Buccaneer argued back that he’d given up all rights when he decided to murder 64 innocent people. To which the blonde boy snapped at his guard, claiming innocence. Needless to say, Major Miles was getting a headache from all the yelling.

“Will you kindly shut up!”

Ed stuck out his tongue at his automail friend. “Major Miles?” he asked. “Earlier Miss Armstrong said something about the Briggs sector. What did she mean by that?”

The major lifted his eyebrow. “Why, you’ll be staying there of course.”

Ed stopped. “Staying there?”

“Yes,” Buccaneer gruffly replied.

“W-why?”

The dark-skinned man took an almost amused tone as he said, “That’s where the most dangerous criminals go, is it not?”

“Or is your brain too small to comprehend that?” the other guard cut in.

“WHO YOU CALLIN’ SO SHORT THAT HE NEEDS TO BE CONTAINED IN A THIMBLE FOR A CELL!”

Both guards burst out laughing. Miles reached out and snagged the back of Ed’s newly acquired orange jumpsuit to prevent him from pummeling Buccaneer. Ed’s question was forgotten in the chaos, so the rest of the trip had passed uneventfully. If one can call two full-grown men carrying a struggling child throughout prison halls normal, that is. 

Ed just barely caught the number of his cell, 1003, before he was thrust into it, landing on his automail arm. He winced, but hearing a clanging sound above him, he looked up to see his cell bars closed. “What the hell?”

Laughter seemingly cured, both guards looked down on him from his position on the ground. “Get some rest Edward Elric; tomorrow you wake up early. We’ll have someone at your cell in the morning to show you the ropes.” 

He watched their retreating backs walk down the hall until they disappeared around the corner. As he got up off the floor he took time to observe his room. There was a single cot, attached to the wall. On it, there was a towel and an extra orange jumpsuit. Next to the cot was a bucket, which he assumed he was meant to be where he emptied his waste.  _ Gross _ . 

He put his spare clothes at the foot of his bed and soundlessly slipped under the cover. Finally, he allowed himself to reflect on his week. He tried to stay positive; it was hard, to say the least. How was he supposed to smile when he was accused of murder, locked in a cell, and transported to an unfamiliar place? Reminding himself that this was only temporary until he got his retrial helped relieve him a little. But still, as he was falling asleep that night he couldn’t help but wonder if this was maybe part of his punishment for hurting Al.

With these heavy thoughts plaguing him, no one could fault him for not noticing the pair of glowing red eyes that watched him as he fell asleep.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or FMA:B

Roy Mustang was conflicted. As a lieutenant colonel of Amestris, it was his duty to protect its people. If that Edward kid was really innocent like Hughes seemed to believe, then refusing to speak to him could condemn him to a life full of injustice. And yet, the case was bringing up all sorts of memories he struggled to put behind him.

It still startled him that people could take human lives so easily. Despite having fought and killed during the Ishvalan war, he still had trouble stomaching death. Something he knew he wasn’t alone in. Mustang could easily say that the case was not one he’d like to look over; it brought up too many ghosts. The fact that Resembool was so close to Ishval would only worsen the burden. But Hughes wouldn’t take the same out. He would slave over the case until there was nothing left uncovered. If Mustang wasn’t there to stop him, then his friend would never let go.

Then there was Riza to consider.  _ What would she want? She saw it too. Would not knowing Elric’s motives keep her up at night? Would she be disappointed with me taking the easy way out as well?  _ Needless to say, Hawkeye wouldn’t be very happy with him either.

He thought back to the dreaded conversation.

_ “I’m afraid not Roy,” Hughes said. “This is the man who’s been found guilty of exactly 64 homicides on the Eastern front. Edward Elric, age 15.” _

_ “W-what does this have to do with me?” _

_ “I need your help, Roy. I believe that this boy is innocent. And you’re gonna help me prove it.” _

_ He skimmed over the report. “Innocent? I fail to see any evidence pointing towards the fact.” _

_ “When you’re purposefully collecting evidence to incriminate someone, you don’t look for facts that could help them.” _

_ “So you’re saying he was framed?” _

_ “It’s a possibility.” _

_ “A very low one,” Mustang argued. He skimmed the report over once more. “Take, for example, the bodies. It is clear they were murdered using some sort of alchemy. According to this report, he’s the only known alchemist in the area.” _

_ “Known alchemist,” Hughes pointed out, “and besides, there is no mention of anyone who recently moved near Resembool. The murders were recent. Edward lived here his whole life.” _

_ Hawkeye interfered. “Yes, but that could very well be because no one has moved in during the recent years.” _

_ “Even so, I’d like to think they’d mention that in a report. It’s sloppy.” _

_ “Hughes, that’s one thing,” Mustang said. _

_ “It’s not, there are further inconsistencies. You just have to look a little longer.” _

_ “Hughes, are you sure you are not being biased?” Hawkeye added, referring to Elicia. _

_ “That may be true, and I may be a family man,” he replied, “but I can’t sleep at night not knowing why a kid that young would commit such a crime. At the very least, we need to figure out his motive.” _

_ Mustang sighed. “I really don’t think you’ll find anything.” _

_ “Look,” Hughes said. “For so long we have been forced to see only black and white. It’s the only way we could survive the events in Ishval. We couldn’t question wrong and right _ ― _ the moral grey. But now we’re living in a time of peace. We can afford to look deeper and ask questions. Right now, you’re still looking at this like you would back in Ishval―with lenses. Please, just do me a favor and think about it. If I’m wrong, no harm will come to us. But if I’m right, then this can change the boy’s entire life.” _

_ “Hughes,” _

_ “I’ve already talked to the F _ _ ü _ _ hrer. He agrees that consulting Elric would be a good idea. If only to discover how the murders were committed. You’re our best option. Only another alchemist would understand his explanation. You’re a hero, Roy. Maybe he’ll look up to you and open up easily. And, quite frankly, I’m scared to let anyone else near him. I have a bad feeling about how they’d react. You’d be surprised at how many state alchemists were raised in the east.” _

_ Mustang didn’t know what to say. His friend backtracked out the door, pleading one final time, “Just think about it.” _

_ Once he could hear squeals outside about a certain photo, he turned to his lieutenant. “Hawkeye, what do you think I should do? I’m rather busy and this seems like a long commitment.” _

_ “It’s not my choice to make sir.” _

_ Her answer made his chest feel heavy. _

It had been only a few hours and yet he could already feel gray hairs coming in from thinking about this Elric brat. _Maybe_ , he thought, _Maybe I am looking at this with clouded judgment. Even the F_ _ü_ _hrer_ _thinks this is a good idea._ Mustang let out a loud sigh, covered up a snort. If anything, the Fullmetal Case could at least earn him a promotion.

* * *

It was lunchtime and Ed was already sick of this place. It was bad enough that he was woken up at seven in the morning,  _ I mean, who does that? _ , but he was forced to do chores without alchemy. Ed hadn’t even realized how dependent he’d become on it until he no longer had it. He tried to use it several times, much to everyone’s exasperation, but nothing happened. The pang of sadness in his chest was hard to ignore. 

Despite everyone’s initial shock at seeing a 15-year-old boy placed in Briggs, almost everyone was quick to ignore him and go back to their work. He said “almost” because one person in particular wouldn’t stop staring.

He was tall, but fairly young. Long, black hair fell over his back, kept in a low ponytail by a single white ribbon. His features were unlike anything the alchemist had seen before and he found himself  rudely curiously staring back. 

Catching himself, Ed turned away and tried to swallow the glop that was considered his meal.  _ And to think, I actually tried to argue with them for another scoop?  _ About halfway through his bowl Ed looked up to see the staring man had moved to a rowdy-looking group of inmates. Yet he was still staring.

Feeling his face heat up, Ed marched over to the inmates and pointed a finger in the nosy one’s face. Ignoring their shocked looks, Ed shouted, “I don’t know what the hell your problem is but leave me alone!”

The staring one _ ― _ the leader, based off of how they all surrounded him and looked to him when they ate _ ― _ laughed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, kid. I haven’t done anything to bother you.”

“B-bother? Yes you have! You’ve been staring at me all day!”

“Well, it’s not every day that you hear about a little boy making it into prison. Let alone Central. And especially not a sector as serious as Briggs.”

“Little? WHO YOU CALLIN’ LITTLE!” Ed was absolutely livid. 

“Haha, sorry. I didn’t know you were so sensitive about your age.” His rage was replaced with embarrassment and his face was probably tomato red.

“Ay, Martel, with his mouth open like that he looks kind of like a fish,” one of the table members commented.

Ed unconsciously formed a fist with his automail hand in annoyance. That drew mr. stalker's eyes to his right arm. 

“Well, actually, your age may not be all that’s so interesting about you,” he said.

“Huh? What do you mean?” Ed asked. He saw his wrist get snatched up.

“That arm of yours. I’m willing to guess it’s pretty strong.”

“So?” Ed didn’t like where this was going.

“I’m Greed. Greed the Avaricious. Money, women, power, I want it all. And that arm of yours would be pretty helpful for me. So how much do you want for it?”

Ed yanked his automail back as quickly as possible. “You can’t have my arm!”

“Come on, I’ll give you a decent bargain. You’re an alchemist right! That’s what they’re saying. So you should know about equivalent exchange.”

“That’s not equivalent! I need my arm!”

“Hey now, I do too.”

“Wha, no you don’t!”

“I can throw in some cigars, extra protection, whaddya say? It’s a good deal.” Greed tried to reach for his arm again.

“Elric, time to go. You won’t ever get your next job done if you don’t learn the ropes before the rest of them get in.” Major Miles was a saint. Ed gave him what he assumed was a thankful look and followed him out of the cafeteria, food forgotten. 

“Sorry Greed,” he called over his shoulder “But I have to go! Talk to you later!”

A sad gaze followed him out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, just so everyone's clear, Briggs is a subsection of Central Prison. I don't want to confuse anyone. Kudos and replies are appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, I just love its story.  
> Enjoy!

The Flame Colonel checked his apartment for a third time that day, looking for any loose papers that could belong to the Fullmetal Case. He had been up late the previous night, studying the documents until he was sure he had the words on them memorized. His room had been messy, unusually so since he preferred to keep his work in the office. The mess concerned him, there was a big chance he didn’t clean it all up.  _ What if the page I’m missing is the key to this case? _

Looking in the mirror he noticed his disheveled appearance. His hair was ruffled and his usually neat-pressed clothes were wrinkled. While not noticeable to most people, the slightly unkempt look irked Roy. It was proof that this kid was getting to him. He was already this disturbed by the idea of an innocent face committing such an act. He  _ had _ to have murdered those people, because, if he hadn’t, then the true monster was still out there. 

After taking a last accusatory glance around his apartment, Roy Mustang grudgingly made his trek to the awaiting car. 

“Good morning, sir.” He met the warm eyes of his First Lieutenant at the wheel and returned the greeting absentmindedly. “Olivier Armstrong will more than likely be waiting outside to meet us. I suggest you don’t get comfortable. It is expected she won’t tolerate any delays to her schedule. You’ll most likely see Edward Elric before you even exchange formalities.”

Roy briefly stated his agreement. More oppressive thoughts were constraining his ability to make conversation. Hawkeye, seeming to sense this, quieted, and tension arose between them.

Last morning, he had been entirely confident in his decision to tackle the last mystery of the Fullmetal Case. Spurred on by the Führer's approval and the opportunity provided, he hadn’t taken into account his lack of experience when dealing with children. Investigations were, while challenging, not something he was any bad at. And, should he need any input, he could always rely on Hughes. However, in the past, the only criminals he’d been required to inspect were full-grown adults, not tiny children who were alchemical prodigies. 

Roy had learned how to manipulate adults to serve his own purpose. He understood how to play them like pieces in a game of chess. Children were different, unpredictable. Roy knew this; and knew that although he was able to successfully investigate unsolved cases, it did not mean he was prepared to investigate a closed case with a subject such as Elric. Others had to have talked to Elric before, to try and get him to divulge  _ what _ he did. He couldn’t have been the Führer’s first choice.  _ If specialized investigators couldn’t crack Elric, then what hope did he, a state alchemist, have? _ Little to none. 

The sound of the car stopping pulled him out of his worries just long enough for him to catch sight of the Northern Wall of Briggs. He grimaced. Once Hawkeye went around to open his door, he put on his most charming grin and, in a flirtatious voice, said, “Well, if it isn’t the lovely Olivier Mira Armstrong, you seem happy to see me, general.” He pointedly ignored her growl in distaste. 

His lieutenant rolled her eyes and shut the door behind him. 

“General Mustang. I’m escorting you to Elric’s cell.” _ Damn. I guess there’s no delaying the inevitable. _ “I trust you can find your way out. Don’t bother me with your presence if you get lost.”

“It’s always a pleasure to chat with you General Armstrong.” 

“Sir, I’ll be waiting out here,” said Hawkeye. Suppressing his groan at the thought of being alone, Roy said his farewells. 

Following the warden, Roy entered the main building, observing the collection of family members waiting to get permitted to visit the inmates. A young woman was on her knees with one of the soldiers, begging for them to let her ‘innocent’ son go.  _ Would the boy’s mother react like that if she was still alive? Would she even be able to stomach visiting him? Or would she simply stay curled up at home, unable to comprehend how her own son could hurt people like that? _

Instead of taking a left, where even more relatives crowded the hallway, Armstrong ventured right, and they walked that way for a long time, only stopping once they reached a large metal door, dwarfing the small  _ Briggs _ engraved into the center. 

Two guards joined them and the journey continued. After traversing up several flights of stairs and turning around similar-looking hallways, they slowed to a stop at cell 1003. The cell itself was gray and dull, but within it, he could spot a shock of blonde hair that belonged to Edward Elric. His bangs were covering his face as he stared at General Armstrong, so Roy couldn’t observe him as well as he’d like. But he was small. Noticeably so. And it didn’t sit well with the colonel that a person of his size could do so much harm. 

The general’s voice eventually caught Roy’s gaze as well. “Get up Fullmetal. We’re escorting you to an interrogation room. Don’t make a fuss.”

The tiny body shot up. “What? Interrogation? Nobody said anything about that!” Struggling ensued. Watching two, full-grown men fail to bring a fifteen-year-old boy under their control was comedic at least. The soft breath of air that left Armstrong suggested her amusement as well. That was, until he bit one of them. 

With a shout of pain, Edward was let go only to have his ear grabbed by the Northern Wall of Briggs herself.

“Ow, OW! Let go of me!” the boy screamed. His breathing was irregular and one hand was still pushing at the remaining escort while the other went to attempt free his ear. 

Roy didn’t know why he did it, but as if comforting the kid, he said, “Relax, the general could have delivered that better. I’m only here to interview you. Legally, I can’t harm you.”

Armstrong sent him a withering glare, but he was only fixated on the molten gold pools focused on him. He noticed the panicked expression relax slightly, and he couldn’t determine whether it was from Armstrong releasing his ear or the words. But he stopped struggling. It was weird to think that a graphic homicidal murderer was scared of being hurt himself. It was almost pathetic. This thought, however, reminded Roy who he was dealing with and he shifted to a more authoritative stance.

The boy didn’t seem to notice and he let out a smile. “So you’re here to set my story straight? You’re the one who’s gonna get me out of here?” Roy could hear the excitement grow with each word. 

While looking at those eyes shining with hope, it was hard to not hate himself as he schooled his features and said, “It’s not my job to get you out of here.”

It was like lightning had struck. The boy physically jumped, and he stumbled enough to warrant one of the escorts resting a hand on his shoulder to keep the boy steady. He never took his eyes off of Roy and the gaze felt like it was burning the Flame Colonel. Tentatively, the boy asked, “But someone else is, right?”

Before he could answer negatively to that question as well, General Armstrong locked both of their arms in a tight grip and started walking. 

It wasn’t long before they arrived at their destination: a small room with no windows or outside openings. The only furniture in the room was a small, metal table bolted to the floor and two uncomfortable-looking chairs. The general shoved them inside and took both of the boy’s wrists, handcuffing them to the opposite side of a chair. With her mission done she briskly walked out the door and they could hear it shut and lock behind her. 

Roy silently looked over the boy, uninterrupted now that there was complete silence and no one to interfere. Once again, he was hiding behind his hair, which Roy guessed was a common habit whenever he was in a less-than-happy mood. His hands were clenched tightly to the chair legs he was locked to, and his knuckles were turning white from the grip. Following the path of the automail arm up until it disappeared beneath the orange prison garb, Roy noticed that it dwarfed him. It was unsurprising considering the usual age prisoners were when administered into the Briggs section of central prison. Still, it was unsettling seeing the short sleeves almost reach the elbows when they should have rested at the shoulders. Being reminded of how young the boy was always made him feel unnerved. The fact forever plagued his thoughts.

“Would you stop staring at me?” the boy bit out.

Surprised by his sudden speech, the colonel stammered out an apology.  _ Way to go, Roy, you don’t apologize to a murderer. _

“Yeah? Well, it bothers me so don’t do it,” the kid responded. Lower, he mumbled, “It’s all anyone ever does in this place.”

“Oh? And what do you suggest I stare at? The walls? Nothing about this room is very interesting. I’d rather look at the person I’m having a conversation with. That’s proper manners after all.”

A blonde head snapped up at that. “I don’t care about conversations! And I don’t care about manners! All I want is to get out of here and back to Al!”

“Ah, yes, Al. I wanted to mention that, so before I forget… your brother wasn’t some kind of accomplice to you, was he?”

Letting out an indignant cry, Ed defended, “No! Al isn’t like that! He would never hurt anyone! I would never hurt anyone.”

“My apologies, I was just trying to gauge your reaction.”

“Yeah? Well don’t ever accuse my brother of something like that. Ever!” The boy was pissed. “Who are you? What gives you the right to say stuff like that?”

Roy was surprised at how quickly he found a weak point. It looked like the boy really loved his brother.  _ Maybe this won’t be so hard after all. All I have to do is prod him in the right direction. Hopefully, I won’t lose my authority if this plays out right. _

“Don’t think lying will get you anywhere, Fullmetal.” He bristled at the nickname. “My name is Roy Mustang and you will address me as Colonel. For some reason, despite your crimes, your life has been spared. Since you’re living here indefinitely, you might want to make things easier on yourself. If you cooperate with me then maybe you’ll be given a few privileges as well.”

Red-faced and yanking on his cuffs, Elric argued, “Listen here Colonel Bastard, I’m telling you I didn’t―”

“Fullmetal. Don’t embarrass yourself by attempting to insult me. If you won’t show me respect, then I’ll leave. I’m wasting my own time being here. But if I leave without hearing what I want, then I won’t come back. When that happens, you lose your chance of calling your brother and your friends.”

The kid’s mouth was frozen open. “You’ll let me call Al? If I help you, you’ll let me call Al?”

Roy gave a short nod in agreement and smirked to himself. The gamble paid off. 

He swallowed. “What do you need? I’m good with alchemy, I can fix the machinery, or boil your water, or―”

“What I need isn’t your alchemy. I need you to explain to me how you perform it. How did you commit those murders?”

“I don’t know how those people died, I never killed them. Please, believe me,” he pleaded. 

Roy looked down on him disapprovingly.

Stammering for a second, he added, “But if I saw the-the murders… maybe I could help?”

Roy was confused.  _ Why does he want to see their bodies? Does he get satisfaction from knowing what he did?  _ However, despite denying his crimes, he was willing to look over the pictures and maybe give him info. It was better than nothing and he couldn’t exactly do anything harmful with the information he already knew. 

_ Maybe _ , said a voice in his head. A voice that sounded suspiciously like Hughes.  _ Maybe he’s telling the truth and he’s just desperate to see his brother. _

Pushing the voice to the back of his head, he sighed and pulled out the cursed file, shifting through it before he pulled out about fifteen pictures and placed them on the table. He watched Elric look over the pictures once he was finished. 

It didn’t escape his notice that the boy hated looking at the photos. He gagged and had to look away multiple times before he pushed them all aside save for one of the  _ cleaner _ ones.

Hughes’ reminder was at the forefront of his mind, but he also realized that, after Edward’s reaction to interrogation, the boy could just be afraid of gore.  _ Alchemy doesn’t necessarily have to be close range, _ he reminded himself.  _ Just look at you. He probably wasn't up close and personal enough to dwell on his actions. _

Looking at the picture the boy chose, he absentmindedly noted that it was the girl who’d been found missing half her arm. It was a wound that was treatable if done in a timely manner, but it must have been hours before anyone discovered her. By the time her body was discovered, she had already bled out. She was laying limp across her porch, a large part missing, and the tell-tale alchemy signs scattered on the broken edges.

He watched the boy’s brows furrow as he probably tried to fabricate a lie in order to make himself sound innocent. Once again, he was confused when he saw what he thought was genuine confusion written across the boy’s face. “This doesn’t make sense,” he said. “The porch must have been ripped apart with alchemy―look at those marks―but I would think that some trace of it would be found scattered across the dirt, or the missing pieces a few yards away.”

“Fullmetal, this is our question exactly.” He began to muse aloud. “You couldn’t have just hidden it underground―for one, there would still be splinters left over on the surface. Even if you somehow hid all that, there was nothing there when we dug it up. If you attempted to move the porch away, you’d have to use alchemy, and the marks faded in about a five yard radius from the porch. The only solution you’d have is to make it disappear.”

“That’s not something I can do. Decompose it, maybe. But not make it disappear. That wouldn’t be equivalent exchange.” 

“You’re right. So how’d you do it?”

The boy let out a long sigh. “I didn’t―never mind. The only explanation I can think of is that it was taken via a philosopher’s stone. But that wouldn’t be very practical. Who would use a philosopher’s stone for this? Why? What’s the point of wasting something―with the potential to create immortality―on an arm and porch?” He stopped, seeming to realize what he just said. 

Roy felt his insides squirm. “You. How do you know about a philosopher’s stone? That information is confidential.”

“I-it is?” The voice was small. He let out a nervous chuckle.

“Are you telling me that you used a philosopher’s stone to kill all these people? Is that why you can do alchemy without a transmutation circle?”

“What? No! I’d never do that to anyone I swear!” Then, “Wait, how’d you know I could do alchemy without a transmutation circle?”

Roy gave him a calculating stare, trying to decipher if the boy was telling the truth. That same look was returned. 

Evidently realizing that the flame colonel was not going to back down, Ed acquiesced and revealed, “I couldn’t have been the one to do this because I’m looking for a philosopher's stone myself.”

Roy frowned. “So these are people you think know information about the stone? Why do you even want the stone? For immortality?”

“No,” he said. In a defeated voice, he followed, “I just want to get my brother’s body back.”

Roy made a grunting sound at the back of his throat, as if to say  _ go on _ . 

“Four years ago, my brother and I tried to bring our mother back from the dead. We committed the ultimate taboo of alchemy: human transmutation.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so Roy and Ed finally meet! Not exactly the best start, not exactly the worst. I have so many ideas and I think this is gonna be a long fic. But leave your suggestions and I'll try to include them. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, but I really enjoy it.

_“Four years ago, my brother and I tried to bring our mother back from the dead. We committed the ultimate taboo of alchemy: human transmutation.”_

Ed observed as the man in front of him reacted to his words. Mustang went rigid and clasped his hands in front of him in an effort to steel himself for the rest of his story. Even to non-alchemists, human transmutation was a known taboo. In Ed’s experience, most people would either be a jerk to him about it and laugh at his troubles, or they’d pity him and make him feel worse than he already did. It wasn’t long before he learned to stop bringing it up. However, Mustang had reacted differently than the others. 

The tenseness displayed by the colonel indicated that he’d already heard about Ed’s idiotic mistake, probably from one of his previous neighbors. He didn’t violently accuse Ed of anything, not like he had about the philosopher’s stone. He just gave a small nod of his head and looked at the automail arm until he could feel Ed staring. In response, the man politely averted his eyes. 

He’d already figured it out then. That Ed’s arm was a cost of equivalent exchange. _He’s an alchemist._

“I know what you’re thinking,” Ed followed. “But my metal arm wasn’t actually a result of that transmutation. Nor am I trying to find the philosopher’s stone to get my arm back.”

Mustang picked up on his deliberate words. “ _That_ transmutation?”

Ed’s voice became softer as he remembered his biggest regret. “I got out luckily. I only lost my leg during the incident. It was Al who got the worst of it.” He took a pause. “My brother warned me that something felt wrong. He didn’t want to go through with it, but I didn’t listen. I forced him to help me with the transmutation.” He let out a bitter laugh and grasped his face in his hand to hide the shame. Not daring to look at the other man’s face, Ed gasped out, “I was _so_ stupid.” 

Looking down, he never caught Mustang’s alarmed expression at his choked out words.”It was stupid of me to think there would be no cost, no rebound. That maybe offering up the components of a human form and a little DNA would be enough equivalent exchange for hi―. For her”

Barely in time, Ed was able to stop himself before he muttered words that would get him in more trouble. The truth was a touchy subject for Ed, and an altogether fantastical subject for outsiders. Not one alchemist he’d talked to or a single book he’d read, had mentioned the mystical deity. 

Questions were always asked about how he performed alchemy without a transmutation circle, and every time he’d had to answer that he’d always performed it that way. To speak the truth ( _Haha_ ) would sound unbelievable. Now it was necessary to lie about him. Being locked in a prison had a better chance of him escaping to go help Al. He _would_ be found innocent after all. Asylums would be much harder to get out of.

Mental tangents aside, Ed shakily continued his story. “In exchange for our mother, my left leg was taken from me. Al lost his whole body.”

He could feel Mustang’s questioning look burning through his defenses. “ I-i didn’t even notice at first. I was so occupied by my own pain and the thought of seeing mom, that I forgot my little brother had vanished right before my eyes. So it wasn’t until I caught sight at what I had done to my mother that I snapped out of this hazy euphoria. She―”

Ed knew he wasn’t crying, but the memories were still painful enough to warrant tears forming in his eyes. Guiltily, he stated, “She scared me. I was scared of her. I wanted to hold my brother and take comfort in him. That's when I noticed he wasn’t with me. He was gone and I didn’t notice.”

“I was so panicked at the thought of losing my brother that at the first sight of something that would act as a suitable body for him, I dragged myself over to it and committed a soul transmutation, using my own blood to form a circle. That’s how I lost my arm. It was the price for his soul.” At this Mustang let out an impressed breath that Ed ignored.

“I trapped my brother in a metal suit of armor. He can’t eat, sleep, or feel. And he didn’t have a choice. H-he doesn’t even remember what a hug feels like.”

Looking up at the colonel Ed noticed, dare he say it, a sympathetic look on his face. Not one of pity, but one of understanding. For what, he couldn’t tell and it didn’t matter to him. Not really. Pushing his luck, Ed tried, “Don’t you see? That’s why I need a philosopher’s stone. With the stone, I could get Al back into his body. If me and Al can create one, he can be normal and happy.” 

The older man let his chin rest upon his hands as they shifted to a thinker pose while he thought over his response. “You shouldn’t have turned to the philosopher’s stone,” he challenged.

Ed gaped up at him. “You. Why. Wha.” He couldn't think of a reply. _Hadn’t he been listening at all?_ Eventually, he settled for an indignant cry of “Why the hell not?!”

“The fact that you can’t even see what’s wrong with it makes me concerned for your mental state. I’ve been told that most murderers don’t have a sense of morality, but I was hoping you could prove me wrong.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

Mustang held up a hand to silence him. “I recall you promising that you would behave if you could call your brother.”

Ed anger visibly snuffed out. He couldn’t mess up a chance to see Alphonse.

“Good,” Mustang continued, “I can see that this is working you into a state, so I’ll just ask you a few more questions before I take my leave.”

The questions were boring. Ed scolded himself for being relieved but he knew that being reminded of the situations that led up to his imprisonment would be far worse than ‘What were your friends like?’ or ‘What games did you like to play?’ He didn’t understand the man’s angle, but it was preferable to spitfire accusations.

As the man began packing his pictures back into the file, Ed asked, “Will I get to call my brother?”

Not looking up from his task, Mustang responded, “I’ll put in a word at the warden’s.”

The man stood up, knocked on the wall, and two guards appeared to uncuff him and escort him back to his cell. 

He looked back at the man he’d spent his afternoon with and noticed a flash of silver coming from his military uniform pockets. His mind made the connection it’d been too preoccupied to make while in the interrogation room. Mustang was a name commonly thrown about in Resembool. He’d become a special celebrity there, after the Ishvalan Civil War. He had frequented the East in his youth, and people were proud of the good representation. After all, it wasn’t just anybody that could become a hero to Amestris. 

It dawned on him that Roy Mustang was the famous Flame Alchemist. He didn’t know what to make of the revelation, but he realized that the man would be more crucial to his release than he originally thought.

* * *

Roy was currently lounging in his apartment rubbing his aching ear. When Olivier Armstrong said she didn’t want to see anyone again, she meant it. He chuckled, recalling the angry look on her face when he requested the Fullmetal boy a phone call. Though her anger was terrifying, her embarrassment of someone not following her command made it easier to bear.

Beer bottle in hand, he read over the notes he took from earlier that day. The boy hadn’t really answered his questions. He had really only frustrated him until he moved onto the next subject, but if Roy wasn’t being naive, then those really were the boy’s emotions showing through. Edward Elric cared deeply for his younger brother.

It wasn’t anything more than a theory, but Roy had a suspicion that the boy’s guilt for his brother and the murders were connected. If the boy was really as gifted an alchemist as the reports say, then he might have been aided by a fake philosopher’s stones. Though few and far between, there have been alchemists caught using them to aid themselves. Perhaps Ed came into possession of one and, realizing its power, decided that finding the real thing would be enough to get his brother’s body back without making the same mistake. 

When searching proved futile, he turned to creating one from scratch. It explained why people were going missing and being killed. It was still inexcusable, and Roy thought that King Bradley was being more than lenient enough with Ed’s punishment. Though he hated to say it, that kind of crazy determination might be better off dead.

Furthermore, the idea that a kid somehow found out the ingredients to a philosopher’s stone shot terror through his spine. _If this is the havoc one kid can create when he knows the truth, what would a truly malevolent adult do?_ He would have to warn the Führer of his suspicions. If the secret of the philosopher’s stone got out then the general public would be in great danger.

_You’ll also have to talk to Alphonse to confirm the story_ , he told himself. While it was known that whatever had occurred in the house was human transmutation, nothing quite as absurd as this tale had come to mind. Only one testimony had reported it, with the barest of details. 

‘What was that thing found buried underneath the house’s ashes?’

‘Came from human transmutation. Ed and Al don’t like talking about it.’

He took a drink from the beer and made a face. In practice, drinking on the job was a horrible idea. He could try to slip in a few hours at work and continue to sip at the alcohol till he felt that pleasant buzz, but he knew he’d regret it later. Hawkeye would undoubtedly have his head if he didn’t finish all of his paperwork; the case would surely get in the way. There was also the fact that he wanted to impress the Führer. Solving the final mysteries of the case would certainly earn him brownie points. Alcohol was definitely better saved for celebration. And he’d rather not use the cheap stuff. Getting up and stretching, he walked to the fridge and put the almost-full beer bottle away.

Sighing, he filled a glass of water instead. He just had so many questions for Fullmetal. He pondered calling Hughes. The man led the intelligence department, after all. He’d be able to spurn and burn his theory if it had no merit. And it’d be good to check up on him. To see if he’s settling into the East yet.

It was actually quite odd to have gone this long without a call from his friend. _Maybe he’s just really busy. Or he’s probably bugging that family of his. He’ll start bragging to me about all the love his daughter sent him over the phone in no time at all._

Thinking about Maes led to him thinking about his buddy’s plea. He wanted _so badly_ for Roy to see it from the kid’s point of view and to see him as an innocent, but, after today, he couldn’t. The talk made him more certain of Edward’s guilt than ever before. He was getting restless from thinking about the lengths the boy would go to restore his brother. This is why he needed to talk to Hughes.

_I’ll phone him tomorrow_ , he promised himself. 

* * *

Dinner came and went for Edward in a blur. He felt excited about the phone call with his brother, but he was also scared that the colonel didn’t follow through with his promise. The anxiety ate away at his gut―and his appetite. He spent the duration of his meal spooning the gloop onto his spoon and letting it drop. 

Apart from his run-in with Greed ( _That can’t be his real name because surely…)_ , not a single person had reached out to him. People stared, but for the most part, he was left alone. He’d had a pretty boring prison experience so far. It honestly wasn’t as bad as he’d expected. Because of this, he was surprised when someone came and sat right next to him.

The shock caused him to drop his spoon into his ‘food’, splattering the meal all over him. The girl smirked a little before letting a mask of indifference fall into place. 

“Who are you to go sneaking up on people like that,” he cried. 

Maybe he wasn’t laying his anger on thick enough because she replied “Lan Fan” as if he’d intended for her to answer her name all along.

“Yeah well―” He noticed her pat her prison-issued pants and saw a bulge in the side. _Knife_ , his mind supplied. _Maybe I should be careful about who I piss off_ , he thought. “My name’s Edward.”

She blinked. “I don’t really care.”

Ed felt his face flush in embarrassment. _Why would you introduce yourself to me then?_

She answered his unasked question by saying, “I’m only here because Ling has approached you and I want to be able to make sure he stays out of trouble.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She scoffed. “Of course you don’t. That idiot parades around as Greed now.”

The conversation was left awkwardly on that line. Ed was more interested in his upcoming phone call and Lan Fan didn’t seem interested in saying anything else. However, the quiet company wasn’t exactly bad. It wasn’t until his idiot brain supplied that she’s in prison for a reason, that he felt the need to leave. 

“I’m going to hit the sack early,” he called out. There was only a quiet hmph in response and then he was gone.

Once inside his cell, he took his hair out of his trademark braid and laid down with time to think. He thought about Colonel Mustang and how much of a bastard he was. He hated how he accused Ed of such things and yet he knew that he was lucky to get someone like him to question him and not some other pompous military dog. Others would probably threaten him with violence; he’d heard of it happening before.

Still, he hated how unfair this all was. He had hurt Al soooo much. He’d killed his mom a second time. Of this guilt, he’d never be relieved. But he’d never hurt anyone like the people back at home had been. He’d been just as scared as everyone else when he heard there was a killer on the loose. In fact, he and Al were planning on tracking this guy down themselves before this whole fiasco. 

It hurt when people actually believed he could do this to neighbors, to friends _, and people that might as well have been family_.

The constant emotional wreck he was in exhausted him. Covering his eyes with cool metal, he pictured himself in a grassy field with Al, fighting over a certain blonde-haired mechanic. With all the negativity that was surrounding him, it felt good to fall asleep with a smile.

* * *

Ed woke up to cold air nipping at his skin. Blearring looking around, he noticed a dark shadow blocking his view of his cell. When he was lifted up, he started to squirm and was squeezed tighter in the stranger’s grip. Purple eyes loomed over him, and he gave a start. He readied his hands to clap, but, before he could, a hand ran soothingly across his brow.

Looking up at the stranger, he saw a bright light and the facial features morph into that of his mother’s. The revelation that this was just a dream calmed him and he settled into his mother’s grip. 

The strength of it was a lot more than any hug his mom had ever given him, but he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth since this was the first dream (since _that_ night) of his mother that was somewhat pleasant. 

His brow furrowed when he thought he heard his mom say, “That’s it pipsqueak, nice and quiet,” but he ultimately disregarded it and snuggled deeper into his mother’s chest, letting her carry him to whatever destination dream-her had planned.

At one point he felt a sharp prick to the back of his neck, but he wrote it off to a bug biting him in the real world. It wasn’t long before he was fast asleep once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm very proud of this chapter. I hope you enjoyed. Hopefully the next few chapters will be up faster, but last week your stupid author stubbed her toe and broke her foot so she hasn't been in a writing mood. That being said, happy 'spring break' everyone! Make sure to stay healthy and happy!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or Fullmetal Alchemist:Brotherhood. No profits are being made from this.  
> ***  
> Enjoy!

People were staring at him as he stood uncomfortably outside the Führer’s office. Although he could applaud himself on his psychological examination of Ed’s character, he had an inkling of fear that King Bradley wouldn’t be satisfied with all he had discovered. That is to say, nothing solid. His theories of the Fullmetal Alchemist’s―because of course, he had to give himself a nickname that sounded like a state title―motivation and murder weapon would need more examination to be considered true. 

The nervousness battled his reasoning that, for one hour, the vague information he had gotten out of Elric was more than substantial. _The Führer had personally approved of me, but what does that mean?_ _Will he take me off this case if I don’t provide notable findings?_ It could harm more than his reputation. His job was on the line.

Furthermore, the stiff military stance he held as his mind battled himself was causing his joints to ache. He’d been waiting outside the Führer’s office for so long that he was beginning to feel forgotten.  _ What is taking him so long? _ An assistant had informed him earlier that King Bradley was having a meeting, but it had run over an hour into his own time. 

He took a deep breath and told himself to relax, less he complain himself to death. He just hated how frazzled this case had gotten him. He felt off his game, and his mind kept trying to convince him that the kid wasn’t all that bad. That a murderer wasn’t all that bad!

Roy had been staring at the Führer’s door so intently, willing it to open, that he thought he’d combusted something in the man’s room at the appearance of a bright crack in the crack. A young man he could have sworn left the building twenty minutes ago came strolling out of the office. 

The Führer’s face greeted him then, holding the door open in an invitation. “Sorry,” he said. “I’d gotten so excited about what Mr. Worcester was saying I guess I lost track of time. Please forgive me.”

“Of course sir.” Roy bowed his head in a symbol of respect, and followed his superior inside the office.

Upon stepping foot inside he noticed the cluttering of papers, which made him feel slightly better about the state of his desk. Actually, now that his scheduled appointment had run late, Hawkeye had probably stacked it with mountains of paperwork. He sweatdropped at the work he’d have to do when he got back.

Averting his eyes from the terrifying reminder, he was surprised to find a lack of family photos adorning the man’s room. Though covering one’s workplace with pictures of loved ones was unprofessional, a single photo wouldn’t be scorned. For someone so reportedly devoted to his family, he didn’t have much to show for it. 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve requested my assistant to bring us coffee. She should be arriving soon.”

“No, not at all. I actually forgot to drink my cup this morning”

The Führer let out a polite chuckle. “Good, good.” Then, his expression hardened and stilted conversation was overcome by serious discussion. “I’ve been excited to hear about any findings in the Fullmetal case. Tell me, Lieutenant Colonel, what is it you’ve discovered so far.”

“Well, sir,” he began, “As with all the other investigators, I’ve discovered that Elric is adamant about his innocence.” Sensing his superior’s impatient gaze, he hastily continued, “But, he was willing to cooperate,” here, he put stress on the word, “when I offered him a chance to phone his brother.”

The Führer’s inquisitive stare met his. “Oh? That’s interesting. From what, I’ve heard the boy clams up whenever his brother is mentioned.”

“Maybe. He did that to me at first as well. He regressed into stubborn shouts of how he’s not a murderer, and how neither is his brother, if I recall properly.”

King Bradley made an interested noise.

“It wasn’t until I tried bargaining with him that he cooperated. It seems like he wasn’t aware of his position―that prisoners in Briggs don’t get the privilege of calling loved ones. Once he figured that out, he practically begged me to give him a command.”

“This is all rather interesting Colonel Mustang. You’re getting me excited, I hope you’ve got good news.”

Roy cursed himself for talking up his findings. “Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it good news, but it’s news nonetheless.”

The Führer grinned. “Any news is good news. The boy may be contemptible, but his alchemy is simply astounding. His talent could benefit all of Amestris. It’s a shame he turned out so poorly; he would have made a fine state alchemist. If we could understand his alchemy, train our state alchemists to perform it as he does, then all of our borders would be secure.”

That’s right, the Führer was invested in this case because of the alchemic advantage Edward could give Amestris. “Führer King Bradley, sir, I know this is too early to confirm, but I theorize that the boy was using a mimication of the philosopher’s stone to kill his victims.”

Bradley leaned forward, hands clasped together in restraint. “A fake philosopher’s stone you say? I’d like to know what drove you to come to this conclusion.”

“I know it sounds unlikely, but―”

“Oh no, it’s completely plausible. If Elric is indeed as talented an alchemist as they say, then getting his hands on something like that would be nothing more than a small hindrance.”

“Oh,” Roy said, surprised at the nonchalant reaction. 

“Though I do fear what could have happened had an actual philosopher’s stone had fallen into his hands.”

“Sir, this is why I say that I have bad news. The homicides in Resembool could very likely be becau―”

The sound of knocking cut him off. “I’m sorry to interrupt sir, but here is the coffee you requested.” A petite girl with short brown hair and freckles strewed about her face stood just outside the door. 

“Thank you, Martha. I’ll take that from here.” The Führer got up and accepted the tray with their steaming beverages atop it. The door closed and he made his way back across the room with a beaming smile. 

“Well now, how do you like your coffee? Cream perhaps? I myself prefer it black.”

“Just milk, please.” When Bradley began to pour he offered, “I can do it myself, sir.”

“Why, it’s no trouble at all. Don’t worry. Now, what was it you were about to say?”

Roy grimaced, “Unfortunately, sir, the fake stone wasn’t enough. I think he was murdering all those people in an attempt to create a real one.”

“A real one!” The man let out a hearty laugh. “I doubt it. He wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“That’s why I’m worried sir, how secure is our information about the philosopher's stone if a child is privy to it?”

“Colonel Mustang, I appreciate your concern, but I struggle to picture how he could find out the stone’s ingredients.”

Roy couldn’t argue against that, but he revealed the tale he was given―about two boys and their longing to bring their mother back. He argued that for someone desperate enough to bring their mother back from the dead, taking lives to restore their brother wouldn’t be that far a stretch.

Bradley pursed his lips at this, and a scowl marred his features, before morphing into a grin. “Your theory does make sense, though I want to see more evidence. However, I can’t quite convince myself that the boy was using a fake stone to perform his alchemical genius.”

The Führer jotted something down on a piece of paper before addressing Roy once more. “Miss Armstrong has undoubtedly found any items he’d try to hide. I’ll put in a request to see what those are, I want you to run a test the next time you see him. I’ll have him escorted off of the prison grounds, heavily guarded of course. I want you to observe him as he performs alchemy. If he fails to do so, then you have my appreciation, you’ve solved the rest of the case. If not, I’d like you to continue to question him.”

Roy was relieved that at least he wouldn’t be punished for being proven wrong. “Of course, sir.”

“Though, I must ask you not to give the boy any false hope. He won’t be getting out of there after what he’s done.”

“Whatever gave you that impression?”

“From what I’ve heard it’s nothing you’ve done or said. I just know you have people who are desperate to believe he’s innocent. To help them soothe their minds. It’ll be easier for you in the long run if you continue to approach him the way you have.”

_ That’s the opposite of what Hughes wants,  _ Roy thought. 

“Thank you for your time Colonel,” the Führer finished. “I’m sorry to cut this meeting short, but I have another meeting scheduled and unfortunately my previous subordinate occupied much of our time.”

“I understand, sir.” Roy saluted and Bradley showed him out. He paced down the stairs and to his car where his driver greeted him―not Hawkeye, unfortunately―and opened the door. 

Something had been bothering him for the entire meeting, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint it. 

* * *

“Brother!”

“Ed!”

Ed jumped and almost lost his grip on the phone at the loudness of the two voices.

Winry’s, “We were so worried, you idiot!” was drowned out by Al’s doting inquiries of “Are you okay?”, “Is everyone treating you well?”, and “We’re gonna get you out of here soon brother!”

Ed smiled brightly at them. “I’m fine Al,” he said lovingly, “But tell me what’s been happening outside. I’m only allowed five minutes so I don’t wanna waste a single second.”

“Oh brother, it’s been so awful. I’m really lonely without you. I wish you never went on that errand in the first place.”  _ Don’t I know it, Al… _

Over the phone, he heard a muffled, “Don’t be so depressing,” and saw Winry roll her eyes from behind the glass. Following a short scuffle, her voice flooded the phone. “Me and Al have been safe. We miss you, though. So you have to listen to what everyone says so that you can get out of here as soon as possible, okay?”

“I am”

Winry sent him a knowing look.

“I mean, I’m trying. Okay?”

“Ed, this is serious, if you don’t behave yourself, people will see it as defying the law. They’d really think you’re a criminal.”

He knew that. It just didn’t seem to matter what he did. People still thought of him as one anyways. It didn’t help that he had an automail arm and leg. Age seemed to not matter in their eyes. They seemed to come to the conclusion that he was some sort of young radical that got too rash around the government.

That was―until they heard his name. Then they (the prisoners) looked at him with grudging respect. It scared him―the admiration they had for someone who would harm their own friends. He actually preferred when people were openly hostile to him. Those interactions never left him feeling as sick inside.

“Look,” he acquiesced, “I’m really trying to cooperate, but that won’t matter if all they want me to do is admit I used a philosopher's stone to commit those murders.”

“A philosopher's stone?” Winry parroted.

He saw Al’s interest pike up; it was more than likely from the mention of the material they’d been chasing after. “Give that to me,” he heard from across the window. His brother was handed the phone and repeated, “Did you say philosopher’s stone?”

“Yeah, I did. Colonel Bastard is convinced that’s how I killed them.”

“Colonel Bas… Brother! You shouldn’t talk about the military like that. You could get in trouble.”

“I know, Al. He just grates on my nerves.” His brother gave him an unimpressed look. “Look, he refuses to listen to me when I say I’m innocent. He belittles me and then forces me to talk about what happens to us―”

“I thought we promised to never tell anyone else about that!”

“I know, Al. I’m sorry. But he was holding you over my head. I couldn’t go the rest of my life without knowing if you and Winry were alright.”

If it was possible, the suit of armor made a demonic face. “Awww brother, you do care,” he teased. 

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” He blushed, turning his head so that his bangs could hide his face. 

“Oh nothing brother, it’s just that―”

“What?” Ed questioned, noticing the pause.

“Brother, I thought you said people were treating you well?” Al’s voice was laced with worry. Winry looked concerned as well.

“What are you talking about? Were you deaf this entire conversation? Everyone thinks I’m a murderer!”

“No brother, it’s just… You can tell me if someone’s hurting you, alright?”

“Alright, five minutes is almost up,” a voice called over the speaker. 

Ed paid it no mind, saying, “I promise you, Al, I’m fine. I’m actually surprised at how quiet it’s been. The other prisoners have left me well enough alone. Are you sure you’re good?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It was probably just a bad reaction to a bug bite anyways. I’m just worried about you, stay safe okay.”

“I will.”

“Bye, brother. I’ll see if I can see you soon.”

“You too Al. Tell Winry I said bye as well.” He received a nod in affirmative. He tried to say, “I’ll miss you,” but was cut off halfway through. They exchanged the rest of their goodbyes through waves and the two left the room. Ed being escorted in the opposite direction shortly after.

* * *

Later that evening, Ed was dining with his newfound friend (?), ranting about alchemical theories. It turned out that she was an illegal immigrant from Xing, though he didn’t think that would be enough to get her locked up in the Briggs section of Central Prison. He was currently going over the nonexistent medical alchemy in Amestris, trying to branch over into Xingese Alkahestry, and later, hopefully, get her to talk about the philosopher’s stone or other mysterious sources of alchemic power that her people knew of. 

However, if her speaking wasn’t rare enough there was also the fact of―

”What do you mean you’re not an alkahest?” It made no sense, she seemed so knowledgeable of the stone when he mentioned it, giving insightful comments that he wouldn’t expect someone not well-versed in alchemy (or alkahestry) to understand.

Rather than answering his perfectly valid question, she had the gall to insult him. “I do see why you’d be in need of medical alchemy.” He braced himself for the comment about his metal limbs. “Your neck really looks awful.”

“Hey, nothing’s wrong with my neck! What’s wrong with you?”

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean that the back of your neck is naturally that shade of purple?”

* * *

“Winry, you saw brother’s neck too, right?” the suit of armor asked.

“Yeah,” the blonde girl replied, “It looked really painful. I can’t believe Ed didn’t feel it.

“Me neither…”

“Hey, Al?”

“Yeah”

“Do you think he’s hiding something from us? He wouldn’t lie to us if anything is bothering him, would he?”

“I don’t think so Winry. And, besides, I can usually tell when my brother is lying. It didn’t seem like it this time.”

“Maybe it really could be a bug. That’s good, I guess, and it didn’t seem like Ed was in too much pain.”

“I’m scared though, Winry. Brother always says I’m the innocent one and that he should look after me, but sometimes he’s just as clueless. Maybe even more so.”

“What are you saying, Al?”

“Brother could be in danger and not even know! I’ve read up on Central Prison. It’s not exactly nice there. He could be injected with drugs and get sick or roofied―you saw the mark―and he wouldn’t think anything of it! He’d be too unconscious to even realize it.”

“Al, I’m scared too but, remember, Briggs isn’t like the other sections of the prison. The warden there has a really reliable staff and there haven’t been any incidents since she got there. I think, out of everywhere else he could have gone, this is where Ed’s the safest.”

“Maybe, but I still can’t help but feel worried. If only I hadn’t sent Ed out to collect those books for us. If only I had been brave enough to go out and get them myself.”

“Hey, it’s not anyone’s fault, okay? Only whoever killed those people in the first place. Ed wouldn’t be any better off if you had gotten arrested instead of him.”

“Thanks, Winry.” 

Lust watched them disappear into their apartment building, a small scowl darkening her gorgeous face. Though they hadn’t made any correct assumptions, they still noticed something was up with the prime candidate, and their suspicions could halt their projects if they were brought to attention. She would need to notify Wrath so he could give them something to distract their thoughts.

If all else failed, Edward could be cut off from the outside world completely, but listening in as the two alchemists interacted was beneficial to their knowledge, and she would hate to lose a viable source of information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this AU I think that Al would be a little fearful of running daily errands, because now he doesn't have to travel weekly with with his brother and meet with new people, thus not giving him confidence in human interactions. Not becoming a state alchemist means that Ed and Al don't have that kind of money for travel, but that part of the story will be touched up on later. Anyways, I hope you liked it. Remember to stay happy and healthy!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own FMA or FMA:B

“Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron, phosphorus, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, fluorine…”

Ed was, admittedly poorly, attempting to distract himself from the forced labor he was currently partaking in. It wasn’t as if it was difficult―though the bruises he had developed from knee to tile contact had made taking a break ever more enticing―but more so mind-numbing. 

Apparently, some idiot (Greed) had decided to break into the janitor’s supply closet. The idiot (Greed) had stolen bleach and a floor polishing wax and asked his “favorite blonde” to alchemy a sleeping drug to stop his neighbor’s snoring. Needless to say, his “favorite blonde” refused, given that 1: he wasn’t capable of alchemy in this establishment, and 2: even if he could, a mishap reaction of those two mixed would create a noxious gas that could kill said neighbor.

The janitor came looking for his missing supplies, stumbling across the idiot (Greed) in a stroke of luck. The avaricious man was not keen on the idea of parting with his freshly acquired supplies and thought it logical to dump the ammonia-containing polishing wax into his bleach to ward the original owner off. What resulted was a literal tug-a-war.

Both men were knocked out and dragged to the infirmary, only saved by the quick actions of Armstrong’s men. In retribution for the janitor’s health, the Major General assigned cleaning duties to the Briggs prisoners, saving them from the routine of their moping and replacing it with mundane service.  _ It wasn’t even their fault! Greed should be the one to do it! _

Of course, in brilliant foresight, she locked up all chemical supplies in a secure room and left them only water and soap to aid their efforts. Needless to say, the downgraded materials did little to help. Now here Edward was, cleaning the grimy washroom floors with an old toothbrush he feared the origin of. He couldn’t even give the guy a death glare since he was still holed up in the infirmary, recovering from chemical exposure while the rest of them were punished in his place.

He eyed a particularly resilient spot and scrubbed real hard, earning a few amused laughs at his expense. He turned to glare at them and they quickly quieted. Despite the most threatening thing he’d done being his frequent glares, the convicts at Briggs still considered him in high regard, praising him for having the guts to wreak so much havoc within Amestris. He learned quickly that any joke he’d been the butt of, he could effectively silence with just a look. 

This, he didn’t know what to make of. On one hand, it offered the security that he’d be safe from fellow inmates. On the other, it did present a separation between him and everyone else. A separation that wasn’t so bitingly obvious before. Okay, that’s a lie. It was obvious; He’d just thought it would blow over by now. But safety? Definitely a plus. 

He was relieved he had the silent companionship with Lan Fan, however, even though she was withholding her crime from him―something he felt uneasy about at first but was able to tolerate with time. He just wished he could―. Something was interrupting his thoughts.

Hearing low whispers somewhat behind him, and having nothing better to distract himself with, he honed his ears on the faint conversation. 

“...coming back soon. I doubt he’ll be happy.” Ed didn’t turn his head towards the noise, fearing they’d stop if they noticed his attention. However, he still tried to profile them based off of voices alone.

“Profits are going rather well. That should appease him enough.” The second voice was deep, and sounded unintentionally loud, like the rumble of desk wheels against a hardwood floor. Ed deduced that it was male, and more than likely a big man.

When the first voice spoke again, he noticed that it was also deep and carrying, but sounded stuffy as well.  _ Was anyone looking sick today in the cafeteria?  _ “Profits rarely decrease,” it said, “but that doesn’t mean he won’t find anything else to be pissed off about.”

With profits being mentioned twice now, Ed came to the conclusion that these two were part of some underground drug ring.  _ Coke, perhaps? _

“We’ll find a way to fix this. We could beat up a few of the newbies. Lose enough blood and they’ll learn their loyalties soon enough.” Ed’s stomach turned at this. As far as he knew, he was the newest inmate in the entire prison.

“Nah, don’t be stupid. Boss likes doing that himself. Besides, it’s the veteran’s we should be worried about. He’ll think we’ve grown soft while he was away.”

“Well, they haven’t exactly been UNloyal, so-to-speak. They’ve just been distracted that’s all. They’ll remember who they belong to soon enough.”

“I doubt it with how they stare at the boy. They practically worship the ground he walks on. I say we knock him down a peg in front of an audience. They’ll see sense in abandoning him soon enough.” Ed’s hand stopped. It sounded like they were talking about him. They mentioned the staring, and he couldn’t go five minutes without the feeling of eyes on his back. 

“Now you’re the one who’s being stupid. You heard what he’s capable of. He murdered all those people. We can’t go up against that!” Their whispers were gradually becoming louder, more panicked. Ed’s heart rate rose in a parallel fashion. They were definitely talking about him.

Silently putting his supplies away ( _ who cares if the floor’s clean enough _ ) he slid into a shower stall, curling up once he was certain his body was out of sight. It wasn’t that Ed was a coward. He was just incapable of defending himself at the moment. Without alchemy, he had lost his strongest defense, and he knew that the two men were physically stronger than him. The voices betrayed their size. He couldn’t let them catch him eavesdropping. He’d be dead in an instant.

This brought him to a realization, he still had no idea what they looked like. They could walk right up to him and jump him, yet he’d be none-the-wiser. He cursed himself for the lack of insight but knew that sparing a second to look could have jeopardized his escape just as well. 

Within the confines of the shower stall, the voices sounded like low murmurs. He couldn’t make out anything else they were saying. He pressed his back flat against the wall and remained tense until they left. He didn’t even dare leave the stall until the smirking face of Buccaneer curved around the wall.

“Whatcha doing here, runt? Your shift already ended.”

“WHO YOU CALLIN’ A RUNT SO SMALL HE CAN GET WASHED DOWN A SHOWER DRAIN!”

That was the last of the light-heartedness for the day, because Ed realized where he was headed next: lunch. Where anyone could see him and anyone could attack him. A gnawing pit had taken over his stomach, and it wasn’t about to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a very small chapter, but I promise it’s no less important. Anyways, who do you think “boss” is? Who are the two guys talking about him? Remember to stay safe and healthy❤️


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or FMA:B

Roy pinched the bridge of his brow and slumped down on the rickety old chair in his office. “I don’t understand how he could have done… any of this without a philosopher’s stone, Maes... even a fake one would struggle to yield results.”

“I don’t know, Roy. Alchemy isn’t my area of expertise. I can’t exactly help you here.” It was hard to relax himself… to stop himself from yelling at his friend. The Führer’s disapproval hung over him like a dark cloud, and the sliver of praise bit into him like the biting wind. This fueled the storm that was his emotional state at the moment―thundering frustration. 

He had requested to interview Elric again, less than half a week after the initial interrogation, being too impatient to wait the allotted seven-day gap in between meetings. He was denied, and, to his dismay, the separation would be lengthened. Central prison had to secure a room that would support alchemy and fortify itself from any attacks the kid tried to dish out. 

Ever since that meeting with King Bradley, a strange sense of despair had settled in his stomach. He didn’t know why, but he felt _wrong_. He didn’t even think it had anything to do with the Fullmetal case and had everything to do with the ruler of Amestris. The smiles that Bradley gave him spread through his veins like poison. It was a sickness taking over his body, infecting him with misplaced urgency and paranoia. 

This unsettling feeling put him in a horrible mood, and Roy found that his temper was short as a result, snapping at several people this morning for giving him unsatisfactory documents. 

He was stressed; the eye bags he’d worn since acquiring this case had only gotten deeper and more prominent. In hopes of suppressing this anxiety, Roy had called his best friend. It backfired, seeing as though Maes had yet to find anything promising.

“I apologize for being so... demanding. The Führer thinks it’s more than likely that Elric wasn’t using any variation of a philosopher’s stone. I guess I’ve just been disapointed that he doesn’t support my theory,” he said at last. There was no need to admit what  _ else _ was on his mind.

“Don’t get too disapointed Roy. You’ve had this case for less than two weeks. How long did it take a whole team of investigators to get this guy? A year?” He cracked a small smile at this. His friend really was always there for him. “They might not have even gotten him yet…”

Roy caught the mumbling, just barely, and had to run it around in his head for a few seconds until he pieced together what his friend had said. He let out a long sigh, and the smile vanished. “Maes…”

“Sorry Roy, don’t pay much attention to that, it was just me speculating. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” The intelligence officer’s voice was low when he said this, and the goodbye was really abrupt. He supposed that this wasn’t exactly something to be talked about on a public line and that Maes would be contacting him later that night, out of earshot from anyone else. 

This piqued his interest and he had to stop himself from demanding what his friend meant, allowing a soft “okay” to take its place. He really wanted to know though; he was finally allowed to see Edward Elric after days of anticipation. He was finally running the test. The one that would determine whether his theory was true or not. His impatience was overwhelming.

In a day and night change, Maes added, considerably brighter, “I’ll ask around about Fullmetal’s alchemic activity tomorrow, okay? See what kind of secrets I can dig up.” 

“You know, between the way we’ve been referring to him and the test-taking later today, it really feels like he’s some backward state alchemist.”

This line seemed to bother Hughes, as his voice became tired on the other line. “Remember what we talked about Roy?”

“Look, Maes―”

“ _ Remember? _ ”

Sighing, Roy admitted, “I remember.”

“Good, there’s still a chance he’s innocent. We don’t want to condemn an innocent boy to a life of punishment.” There was a pause in which he could hear muffled noises coming through the phone. “...Now I really have to go... I feel as if our roles are reversed, Roy. Usually, you’re the one hanging up on me.” He heard his friend laughing. “Bye now.”

“...Bye.”

* * *

He was lounging on his bed, minding his own business when they came for him. One moment he was fiddling with the mechanics on his right wrist, the next a brown sack was thrown over his head and his arms were restrained before he was ushered (presumably) out of his cell.

He put up a fight at first, yelling muffled protests and elbowing his captors’ ribs. It wasn’t until he felt a palm on his back and the confident voice of Major Miles that he calmed down and realized this was probably just one of Briggs’ weird quirks. That, or he was about to be murdered, but he doubted they would call off his execution if they wanted him dead. Probably.

“So, uh where are we going?” he asked. There was silence. Judging by the noise around him―only the  _ click click click _ of shoes against pavement―no one had even bothered to turn their necks and look at him.  _ What a bunch of stuck up asses. _ “Why am I being restrained?” he tried again. Nothing. 

He kept trying to make conversation, only to be ignored, so he too grew silent. He indulged the idea of memorizing the path back to his cell, counting steps and turns, but he really wasn’t planning on an escape attempt and making himself look more guilty, so there was no need. 

It had been a good twenty minutes of dizzying movements and embarrassing stumbling before he felt  _ something _ . It was faint at first, a dull thrumming in his palms. Soon it grew to pleasant vibrations throughout his body and he knew exactly what it was. Alchemy. His alchemy, for whatever reason, worked here! The revelation sent waves of ecstasy rolling across his spine.

The buzzing excitement was almost enough to get him to remove the heavy metal across his wrists, but he didn’t dare let them know his alchemy worked here. They would most likely march him straight back to his cell, and he’d never know what this little adventure was about. So he kept quiet. 

Ed’s blind wandering finally came to a stop in a circular room. It was dark enough so that when his sack came off, nothing could hurt his eyes. Looking around, he saw smooth metal walls, unblemished and pristine. Looking straight and above him, he could see a platform about 15 feet off the ground. There were big alchemical arrays engraved into it, though he could not make out the exact symbols due to distance. 

The wall with the alchemical markings seamlessly shifted open and remained so while a figure in a military blue uniform stepped out and onto the platform. Stepping closer to get a better look, he saw short black hair and a pale complexion. He couldn’t be certain, but it looked like―

“Nice of you to join us kid.” Ed let out a low growl. There was no doubt about it; the cocky voice was unforgettable. It was Roy Mustang.

Annoyed by the presence of the man he turned to his escorts to demand why they’d brought him here, only to be met with emptiness. Ed didn’t understand at first. He couldn’t recall either of them being alchemist―granted, it was hard to tell in Briggs, but he’d think he’d know by now. Therefore, he didn’t understand how they could vanish into thin air. 

He didn’t have long to ponder because there was soon a bright light that he recognized as the flashing of a transmutation. The walls seemed to peel and curl, shedding into thin sheets. Ed stood there, dumb, in the middle of it. He didn’t comprehend the danger he was in until he heard a harsh sound, like the moaning of a colossal beast. 

He was standing in open space, but he was still close enough to the walls that if a piece fell, he’d be crushed. A piece was ripping off its support right then, getting ready to flatten the alchemist underneath it. He had started to run into the center of the room where he’d be safe when he stumbled on a flaked off piece of metal and fell. Luckily, the piece was small and his body managed to avoid it. Unluckily, the trip was all the time the metal needed to completely detach itself from the wall and come tumbling down on top of him. 

In a moment of instinct, he clapped his hands, thankful that they’d been bound together rather than with a pole in between, and slapped the falling metal. It broke cleanly in two, landing on either side of him.

In an unconscious movement, Ed clapped once more and removed the restraints around his wrists, haphazardly massaging the new marks adorning his flesh hand, created by panicked yanking not a minute ago. Then, clapping one last time to stabilize the walls around him.

When he knew he was safe, a ringing grew in his ears, and he could only feel the heave of his breath. There were quick, successive thumps as his heart tried to jump out of his ribcage. 

He probably looked to be in shock. He  _ was _ in shock. Everyone was probably making fun of how he looked as pale as a ghost right now.  _ Oh no… _

His worry for the others overshadowed his little freak-out. They weren’t alchemists. They couldn’t protect themselves like him. If they weren’t in the center of the room when...whatever  _ that _ was went down, then they could be crushed.

“Is everyone all right?!” he shouted, walking aimlessly. “Do you need any help?!” He panicked when his vision didn’t pick up on anything. “ARE YOU OKAY!?!”

He hadn’t even realized how much ground he covered until he stumbled into something solid and warm. He blinked twice.  _ Blue _ , his mind supplied. There was a blue blob in front of him, supporting him with a firm hand. Another was directly in front of his face, white-clothed and posied as if to snap. His vision seemed to clear a little, his eyes wet from what probably was panic-induced tears. Moving his head to stare up at the man in front of him, Ed met the sight of Roy Mustang, eyes wide and mouth hung open. For the first time since he’d met the man, Ed could actually say that he looked scared of him.

Looking away to avoid that painful look, Ed finally noticed another man he’d never seen before, with dark skin and a mustache that bent into a “w”. He too looked a little scared. The man was holding himself in a defensive position, arm stretched to complete a transmutation within a moment's notice, eyes trailing on Ed’s shaking form.

Backing away, Ed could see the platform was still intact, and on it were his two escorts, Miles and Buccaneer. He couldn’t see their faces, but he knew they looked just as startled as the men before him. 

Seeing as though the people around him were unharmed, he exploded into a fit of snarls and accusations. “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!”

* * *

While Ed was working himself into a state, Mustang was working his way out of one.  _ The alchemy this kid is capable of _ …  _ This is beyond anything I’ve ever seen. And he did this all without a transmutation circle? Without a stone? _

Roy had been prepared for the worst, which is why he’d asked Basque Grand to accompany him on his little experiment. He’d still held onto the conclusion that the blonde needed an artificial stone to transmute. Now, however, the theory was blown out of the water. 

He didn’t need a circle, that much was true, but he didn’t need a stone either. Roy let his thoughts drift to a world where he’d discovered that talent early on, and used it to his own advantage.  _ Having a subordinate like that would look nice on my records… _

No.

This kid was still a murderer, who knows what would happen if he had access to government restrictions. 

Elric’s reaction still managed to perplex him, though. He seemed so concerned with the safety of everyone else. Maybe he had deluded himself into thinking that making the philosopher’s stone would be worth the deaths, and he really was well-meaning in his attentions, but it made no sense for him to care about the safety of those keeping him contained. 

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!”

Seeing the kid work himself into such a state of rage, however, caused him to smirk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ll have to elaborate.”

Elric pointed an accusing finger at him. “Don’t play dumb with me! You know what I’m talking about! The thing! With the walls!”

“How eloquent.”

“Stop being so bastardy! I wanna know what the hell just happened!”

Roy sighed, intending for it to sound exasperated, if only to tick the kid off more. “If you must know, Fullmetal―”

“And stop calling me that. Only Al gets to call me that. How’d you hear about it anyways?”

Roy lifted an eyebrow, answering, “Only Al and about any person that you’ve come into contact with. Honestly, Fullmetal, you were so obsessed with the title, that’s what we called your case.”

The kid bristled, and he looked away, embarrassedly fuming. “Yeah… well… who cares? Tell me what the hell that was!”

“You know, Fullmetal, you really shouldn’t talk to the people in charge of you like that.” The boy growled, which got Roy to chuckle. “Though, if you insist, the Führer requested I study your alchemy. Call it a demonstration, if you will.”

“A demonstration! You could have just asked me you dumbass! If I had been anyone else, I could have died!”

Roy found this kid extremely amusing. “Calm down,” he placated. “General Basque would have stopped you from any actual harm. He specializes in Iron transmutations.”

“Well he’s cutting it real close,” the kid grumbled. “Was he gonna wait until I was a pancake to act?”

This earned a smirk from the general. “Colonel,” Basque said, “If we’re done here, I’m gonna repair this room. I’ll need space.”

Understanding where the man was going, Roy gestured to the two guards waiting patiently on the platform to meet him once he escorted Fullmetal out of the premises. “Of course, sir. Though, if I may ask, can you fashion some restraints back on Elric?” 

“Hey! I’m fine! I won’t do anything, I promise.”

Soon enough, metal confined the boy’s wrists and Roy had acquired a new key in his pocket. Throwing the sack back over the kid’s head, they made their way down the hall, where they were greeted by Major Miles and Captain Buccaneer. 

“Here,” he said, handing over the key, “Make sure he makes it safely to his cell.” Without sparing a second glance, Roy pivoted and exited the building. He had a phone call to collect.

* * *

Pleasantries exchanged, Roy listened in interest as he was informed about what was happening in the East.

“―and I’m not supposed to tell you this, recent news and all, but there’s talk of a civil war in Liore. Apparently, their Father Cornello let it slip that he was planning on using the peoples’ faith to go to war against central. Half of the city is convinced it never happened, while the other half… well… they’ve been more than vocal about their mistrust. Here’s the weird part, Roy. When we first showed up in Resembool, a body washed up on a nearby riverbank.”

“A drowning?”

“No, a murder.” Roy sucked in a breath. It seemed as though the east couldn’t get a break.  _ First Ishval, then Fullmetal, now this?  _

“What happened?”

“Well, stabbed through the heart, it looks like. Same alchemical marks as the Resembool murders, though.”  _ What? They already caught the murderer. Fullmetal was behind bars. He couldn’t hurt anyone else. _

“How decayed was he? You should probably send him back to his family to be buried.”

“You don’t understand, Roy. This man wasn’t rotting at all. The murder was recent.”

_ No. _

“You’re saying that the Resembool homicides are still taking place? That the murderer’s still out there?”

“Yes, and that’s not all. I have reason to believe they're military sanctioned.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or FMA:B 
> 
> Enjoy!

The paranoia from earlier had not lost its edge. His nerves were frazzled enough from the smug-faced bastard’s stupid test, but the reminder that someone not very friendly was going to single out  _ him _ almost made him want to go back to the metal room. He shrunk into his shoulders, falling into perfect step with the captain and major to prevent himself from being seen by the others he passed. It was like this he was able to hide the whole way back to his cell, almost thankful for his small size keeping him hidden.

The unceremonious way he was thrown into his cell was forgotten as he brushed himself off and wedged in between the wall and his bed, curled up enough to be hidden from any passersby. The cool metal of the wall soothed him, reminding him of the metal skin his brother was trapped in, filling him with some semblance of home. 

“You would of loved it, Al,” he whispered to himself, “the feeling of your alchemy returning. I can’t even describe it. It was so… warm. It made me so happy. And then, well Colonel Bastard had to ruin it. Scared me to death by creating some huge-ass earthquake. Felt like puking. Still do, actually. But my alchemy was still  _ there _ and I could use it again. Now it’s gone. I can’t feel it, and it bothers me. I didn’t even know what it felt like until today; now it’s all I want to feel.”

Having his alchemy rendered useless the first time was disconcerting; the knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to rely on it to defend himself occupied his mind. Now, it was draining. He felt empty in a way that he didn’t know possible.  _ Is this what Al felt? Is this what he goes through every time he looks at a piece of food and just… can’t? _ Empathy overtook him as he thought of his little brother. Empathy and guilt.

_ Winry will have to go back to Resembool eventually, but knowing Al, he’ll stay here to wait for me. He’ll be stuck in central all alone, waiting for me to get out while he could be searching for his body. What kind of brother am I to force him to do so?  _

He thought back on Colonel Mustang and how he talked of rewards for good behavior. Would it be so bad to ask the bastard to keep an eye on Alphonse? To get him a place to stay? Ed knew his brother would appreciate an apartment, even if he wouldn’t have a use for it, because the familiar setting of a home would be soothing to him. It would be a sanctuary, a place to avoid judgemental eyes. Would it be so bad to ask?

Edward noticed absentmindedly that the lights gave way to darkness, and the steady voices of the inmates dulled down to soft murmurs. His body grew sleepy from the change in light, but he was still hard-wired into studying well past the early hours of the night. He couldn’t get to sleep just yet. 

Quietly lifting himself out of his curl, he tip-toed into bed, knowing that, while he wouldn’t fall asleep, there was no use waking up sore in the morning when the darkness made it safe to lie comfortably on the cot. 

He looked out of his cell, for the two purple glows that he seemed to see so often. They weren’t there, unsurprisingly though, because they were never there when he purposefully sought them out. All he could make out from the pitch black was vague shapes and the occasional glow of a cigar passed amongst the guards.

Nighttime was uneventful. He’d learned as much on his first few nights in central. Briggs was well-managed and there was surprisingly little misbehavior from such notorious criminals. This is why the sudden peels of laughter bursting from the shadows made him jump. 

The laughter wasn’t hysterical, or crazy, or anything evil. It was just unnerving in the way that a dog finds a place to hide when it’s ready to die. In short, it was foreboding. Something he didn’t understand but he knew he should be afraid of. 

As the laughter drew closer he heard the scolding of someone else. “Quiet Kimblee, or you’ll wake everyone up.” Ed knew most people were still undisturbed. The late night wails and moans of prisoners were commonplace. One must learn to ignore the lamentations if they wanted to get any rest, after all. Still, he couldn’t help but agree with the guards. The laugh was chilling. The light sleepers would undoubtedly have been awoken, and they wouldn’t get any sleep tonight. Not with the haunting guffaws echoing off the walls.

The laughter slowly died down to a quiet wheeze. “I’m sorry,” he heard a new voice say. One he identified as the man who’d been laughing just seconds earlier. “But I fail to understand how I need to be on my best behavior. It’s everyone else who needs to be on theirs. After all, I can’t be held responsible for anyone having  _ accidents _ if they piss me off.” The guffaws started up again, way too amused at his horrible joke.

“That’s enough Kimblee,” he heard another voice say.

“Yeah, keep your trap shut,”

“You don’t want to end up back in solitude do you?”

There were more things said after that, all by different people. Ed strained his ears to hear more, but he couldn’t make out anything after; they must have disapeared beyond the hall. 

There were seven voices, not counting the man with the chilling laugh. That meant seven people were guarding one man.  _ What the hell did he do to warrant that many escorts?  _ When Ed first arrived, the most he’d had was four. Later, as he proved to be less violent than they’d anticipated, the most he’d get was two. Judging by the familiarity that the guards addressed the prisoner with, he wasn’t exactly new here. That means the seven guards weren’t just a precaution, Kimblee must still be a valid threat for them to keep watch over him like that. Ed noted that this was someone he’d want to stay clear of. “Dangerous” flashed in big, bright letters at the forefront of his mind. 

Purple once again caught his attention, switching his focus from the disturbed air the night passers left, and to the familiar fear of being watched. The glow couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds before disappearing, but it was unnerving nevertheless. 

He prodded at the purple bruise covering half of his neck. It appeared shortly after he first saw the glow. It hadn’t hurt―didn’t even leave him sore―but it was still there. And noticeable as ever, according to Lan Fan. The purple had been appearing more frequently, and the bruise was persistent. It had only been about two weeks, but he felt that it should have dulled at least a little. Sometimes he felt like that purple glow had been the cause for the injury, whatever it was.

* * *

Sitting there, surrounded by darkness, it was hard to tell when he’d fallen asleep, but soon the morning alarm came, and the lights flickered on. Ed felt stiff and took notice of the sitting position he’d kept up the whole night. He winced, knowing he’d have trouble moving the whole day. 

Slowly standing up, and taking care to stretch along the way, he shrugged on a new jumpsuit and exited his cell, now unlocked in a brilliant show of mechanics. Making his way to the cafeteria, where breakfast (if you could even call it that) was waiting, he caught on to the excitement that filled the prison halls. 

Jittery whispers were escaping running mouths. Had Ed not been so paranoid as of late, he might not have heard what they were saying.

“He’s back!”

“You’re kidding already?”

“Yep, and he’s already threatened to stab the whole place.” Ed deduced that they were talking about Kimblee. His mind made the connection of the man the mystery voices mentioned before, but denial took full root over his being. Kimblee and “the boss” weren’t one and the same. Impossible. 

“That sounds just like him. I don’t understand how he hasn’t made the firing squad yet.”

“Probably has some serious government connections. Besides, what if there’s another situation like Ishval? They’ll need as many alchemists as they can get, even if it is another blood-crazed lunatic.”

Ed hadn’t noticed that he’d crept closer to hear what they were saying, but he did stop when one of them shouted, “Hey kid! Back off! Trying to eavesdrop, are you?”

Looking up, he saw the two people he’d been listening to, and he sweatdropped. There was a male and a female. Both looked like bodybuilders. Their arms were crossed in an identical fashion, showing off a multitude of tattoos. 

The female, the one with a half-shaved head, walked up to him. Ed jumped back to avoid being hit (The girls he knew were scary, okay?), but she only reached down and patted him on top of the head. Smiling with her eyes, she said, ”Hey, you’re the one everybody’s been talking about. That self-proclaimed Fullmetal Alchemist, right?”

He saw the man shift behind her, ready to defend his friend in case Ed tried anything. Cautiously, he answered, “Yeah, I am.”

“Cool! My name is Beth―”

The man interrupted her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing! Don’t get all friendly with him. What if he goes and kills you during lunch hour?”

She laughed, “This little guy? I think I can handle myself.” She flexed her muscles as if inviting him to a challenge. “Besides,” she continued, “Alchemy doesn’t work here in Briggs. He’s just as helpless as the day he was born.”

Ed bristled at the short comments, though not acting out on it due to the dangerous threat the two possessed. He was about to tell them he had no ill intentions when the man asked his partner to leave, followed by, “We don’t want to get in Kimblee’s way if he has his sights on him.” 

The female nodded, much more serious now. And they turned and stalked off ahead of him. Ed followed at a much slower pace, not wanting to make the male any more hostile. His thoughts kept drifting back to Kimblee, imagining what the elusive criminal must look like. He pictured him as a tall, bear of a man, like Sig in stature. Maybe he had a series of scars littering his face, warding off any attackers. He shuddered, knowing that he’d probably catch his attention with his golden features and shor―not freakishly tall height.

Many more hushed voices, all on the same subject, flooded the halls. When he entered the cafeteria, he was met with an agglomeration of stares. He quickly pushed back the idea of them waiting for him, though, because as he made his way inside, everyone was still staring at the door.

He made his way to his usual spot, with Lan Fan already waiting, food for the both of them. “Keep your head down,” she said. “You don’t want to draw any attention to yourself.”

Of course, she didn’t need to say that, because Ed was already scarfing down the sorry excuse for oatmeal, head bent down to shovel food in at the optimum speed. Looking disgustedly down upon him, she edged her glass of water towards his side of the table, urging him to drink before he choked. Noticing her disapproving stare, Ed managed, “whaaa, don’ ook at me like ‘at! It wasn’ burned today!” That earned him a fond roll of the eyes, much more welcome than the eerie looks everyone else couldn’t help but dish out today.

After chugging down the water at a frightening pace, Ed cleared his throat. “Say, Lan Fan. You’ve been here long enough. What can you tell me about this Kimblee bastard?”

She looked at him, giving him a dubious glance as if to say, ‘Are you trying to piss me off?’

Getting the memo, Ed apologized. “Sorry, sorry. I just was curious, cause everyone here talks him up, but I’ve yet to hear about anything he’s actually done. I don’t know why everyone is scared shitless of him, that’s all.”

As if some greater force had answered him, the doors were thrown open with a loud bang. From outside them, a lean man with pale skin and black hair clashing in a striking contrast stepped out. Ed noticed that unlike everybody else, he was garbed in long white clothes. They were arranged in a way that, from afar, he looked like he was wearing a coat and tie.

The whole room had gone still. Anyone who’d been chattering before now stood silent, breath bated as they looked upon that malicious grin. Instead of passing through like any normal person, the man stood, seeming soaking in the looks of apprehension. Releasing his hands from their dramatic pose, not having moved from in front of him since he’d pushed open the doors, they bent down to rest on his hips.

Moving his head slowly, as if to look at each and every occupant of the room in the eyes, it swiveled to a stop right where Ed and Lan Fan’s table was. Though he could not see from so far a distance, Ed felt the man’s eyes pinning him down, leaving him frozen stiff in his chair. 

Slowly, deliberately, in the voice of the laughing man just a night prior and with his eyes still pinned on Ed, the stranger said, “I’m back!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so now we have Kimblee to mess everything up. Hahaha. Roy and Ed will interact more in the latter half of this fic, I promise. It's just that they need to not hate each other first. I hadn't even intended for it to be this slow burn. But now I'm thinking I should make "parental!slow burn" a tag. I'll probably post my original plans for this work once I'm finished with it, and you can see how far I deviated from my original plan.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or FMA:B

The world seemed to slow down, and although very little attention was focused on him, the eyes pinning Ed were suffocating. The man in white seemed to be assessing him, running his predatory gaze up and down his frame. The blonde swallowed, making a large gulping sound as he did so. Stranger’s face settled into a creepy smirk, and he seemed to be making his way over when a few of the more intimidating inmates intercepted him.  _ Thank Truth for that. _

They spoke animatedly, and despite their big stature, they seemed fearful of the smaller man. Quick gestures were made in his direction, and although Ed managed to avert his eyes, he didn’t exactly change his positioning to hide his eavesdropping. Small glances were sent his way and Ed could feel his cheeks reddening (out of anger, embarrassment, some weird form of fear; he didn’t know). It wasn’t long before Lan Fan whacked his head, forcing it down on the table. It was an unspoken gesture of  _ danger, don’t draw attention to yourself _ . 

It remained that way until the end of breakfast, but on his way to return his dirty dishes to the high-piled stack, a foot was twisted around his ankle, yanking him off his feet. Ed slammed hard into the ground, his dishes following with a distinct ‘clang’, and he lay, dazed, trying to figure out how his world had so quickly done a 180-degree flip. In the back of his mind, he had the thought to be grateful for the wooden bowl, since that meant he wouldn’t be murdered by the General for breaking it. 

At the sound of a few barely hidden snickers, reality seemed to return to Ed. He had been tripped by someone. 

He was  _ mad _ at that someone. 

Ed snarled, spreading his palms on either side of him, and forcefully pushing up… only to stop at what must have been the biggest foot he’d ever seen. Comically trailing his eyes up the still form, he could see outlines of muscle hiding within the orange garb. Further still was this mass of hair that buried his head and coated his arms, making him seem like a gorilla. He let his mouth drop into the stupid ‘o’ shape at that.

What Ed couldn’t not notice was that satisfied grin he had plastered on his face. It represented someone who had just bought the last cake at a popular bakery. Wait―bad analogy. He didn’t look like he’d eaten cake all his life. What, with the muscle and all. But, whatever point he’d been trying to make, this was the assailant alright. 

Slowly getting to his feet, he fumed, “What the hell was that for?” In retrospect, that hadn’t been the greatest idea. He was outweighed by at least 300 pounds and the guy looked like he bench pressed every day. But this guy, he’d seen him around before, which meant he wasn’t ‘Kimblee’ or whatever. So that meant he was relatively safe. This was further proven by the flicker of fear revealed in his words. For some reason, these hardened criminal nutjobs were still scared of him and with how shitty he’d been feeling for the past few weeks, it felt good to finally have a reason to push back, even though this guy was relatively innocent in the grand total of inconveniences in his life.

Gorilla-man hardened his face, looking intimidating enough that any fear he’d shown could have been mistaken as some trick of the eye. “I was just making sure a lowly brat like you would remember their place.” His voice gave him away, wavering off at the end. Whatever conflict he’d initiated had clearly been something he’s against. But even so, what he was insinuating was making Ed pissed.

“Oh yeah? And where exactly would that be?” he snarled.

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?” Edward could feel more than see the giant man tense, his fists curling into balls. 

He could play it safe and back off, but that might mean people would no longer see him as a threat. That didn’t bode well for him. Instead, he decided to keep on pressing. With the way the other man was acting now, he might make it out on top due to nerves alone. He needed to risk it.

“Actually, I would.”

Voice wobbling, he began. “Let me tell you, scum. The only place you’ll belong around here is underneath our feet. If you wanna survive, keep your head low… though, that shouldn’t be a problem.” The man swiftly walked away. It was a coward’s exit, but it was ultimately the right decision because Ed was livid.

“WHAT’D YOU JUST SAY? WHAT’D YOU JUST SAY? WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, SAYING SHIT LIKE THAT TO ME!”

His screaming had got the lookouts’ attention. They came rushing to him, ready to pin him down if needed. “1003! Calm down!” he heard them say. It took them making flesh contact for him to remove himself from the headspace he was in.

It didn’t matter that he just put on a ridiculous show. No one called the Fullmetal Alchemist short.  _ No one _ . He wanted to crush that creep so badly, just give him one minute with his alchemy and he’d show him why he isn’t to be messed with.

Instead, he focused on taking deep breaths. He let the guards release their holds on him, cautiously backing away in case they provoked him again. Ignoring them, he leaned down to pick up the dropped dishes, fuming. He not-so-gently placed his dishes in the used pile and stormed out of the cafeteria, intent on making it to the laundry room where he could focus all his anger into the next daily chore.

That, of course, didn’t go to plan because his day wasn’t ruined enough. Before he made it within three hundred feet of the room his elbow was intercepted, and he was pulled around a shady corner.

Even with the bad lighting, the figure was recognizable. Bleached white clothing, long black hair, pimpy hat. It was Kimblee/not-Kimblee.

Ed sucked in a breath, his anger dissipated. “What do you want?” he asked cautiously.

The other man let out a grin that would have been charming had his aura not reeked of malicious intent. Laughing softly, he said, “You are Edward Elric, are you not? The self-proclaimed ‘Fullmetal Alchemist?’”

Ed debated lying. It wouldn’t be so difficult to say ‘no’ and walk away, but that would be too naive to assume. If the man was particularly volatile, he might actually stick a knife in him for wasting his time. And if the man already knew who he was and Ed was proved to be lying... He let loose a few mental shudders.

He didn’t know why the man evoked such a strong feeling of disquiet within him, but he knew to trust his instinct and tell the truth. “I am,” he confirmed. “Who are you?”

“Oh good, I didn’t want to grab the wrong person. I am Solf J. Kimblee.” The grinned, obviously satisfied at the sound of his name. “And I heard the most interesting things about you from a few friends of mine. I wanted to know if they were true.”

Tension spread across his body.

“I wanted to know if you really killed all those people in the east.”

Ed felt ice crawl into his lungs, taking control of his breathing and robbing all air.

“I want to know if you really are the Resembool Murderer.” The grin deepened, as if he was pleased at the thought. At the movement of others from around the hall, shadows danced over his face like demons.

Ed knew that this point in his life was monumental. There was an aura of danger that spread from Kimblee, soaking into the very fibers of his being. The man had the power to swiftly end him if he answered wrong. And something told Ed that he wouldn’t hesitate.

From the way that people were talking about him and from the obvious power the man oozed, he could hypothesize that he would want to solidify his reputation by using Ed. If he said no, pleaded innocent like every other time he’d been asked, then he had no doubts the man would kill him. It’d show Briggs who was in control.

Who is to be feared.

On the other hand, if he said yes, regardless of what the other man believed, he’d be taken under his wing. He’d be used as a tool in Kimblee’s gang to inflict terror on everyone here. In a choice between life and death, he’d have to lie. But if he did, and Mustang somehow found out he’d admitted to his crimes, wouldn’t that be enough to lock him up for life, no more investigations needed?

If he said yes, wouldn’t he be leaving his brother all alone? With no help to search for the stone?

_ I’m sorry Al _ .

Bracing himself, as if his answer would cause his world to implode, he said, “I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally back. I know I took a really long hiatus, but one of my problems with my story is that I'm noticing my writing style change with each chapter. I was debating on whether or not to scrap it and start over, but ultimately decided on finishing it and rewriting later. Just bear with me guys! Thank so much for the support of this story. I really appreciate it. As always, stay healthy!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or FMA:B  
> ***  
> AHHHH this is such a short chapter! I know that it's kind of disappointing, but if I didn't cut it off here, then it would be so long. The next chapter has already been created though, so it should be up shortly. I just need to fix my draft to make it presentable. So without further ado...

“Sir, are you alright?”

“Yes, lieutenant, I’m fine.” He was decidedly  _ not _ fine. He hadn’t slept a wink the previous night, instead too focused on murders and unsolved cases.

_ What did any of this mean? _

First, a fifteen year old boy was found guilty of mass murder. All evidence pointing to him, despite his young age. When questioned, he admits to searching for a philosopher’s stone ― a stone forged from human sacrifice ― and yet he claims to be innocent. The F ü hrer… the  _ F _ _ ü _ _ hrer _ insists that the boy  _ is _ guilty without a doubt. Roy had often wondered about whether or not this was a ploy for the man to remove him from his positioning.  _ Maybe he had discovered the Colonel’s true aspirations? _

No.

He couldn’t think like that. As long as he kept to his normal schedule, nothing he was doing was even against the law. Right now, the only thing he had to worry about was the Fullmetal Case.

The Fullmetal Case and homicides scarily reminiscent of the original murders.

Which brings him to this horrible train of thought: Could Elric really be innocent in all of this? Just a pawn to cover up something even more horrible lurking in the shadows? After all, King Bradley had been adamant in his belief on the kid’s guilt. And, despite his isolated position, was still more often than not correct on security matters pertaining to their country.

He knew that Aerugo would attack. And Creta and Drachma too. It wouldn’t be wrong to presume that he was right about Edward as well.

_ But then what about Hughe’s suspicions? _ His friend was rarely wrong either. To accept one would be to discredit the other.

Arghhhhh.

He wanted to scream. In his frustrations he even managed to sneak his hand up his scalp and tear a few pieces out. At this rate, he would be turning into an old man prematurely. First the bags under his eyes, then the hair. What’s next?

“Sir, you should take a break. You’re zoning out again.”

“No, no I―” He paused. His paperwork was left untouched on the desk. It was only something as simple as a signature ― an approval for Fuery’s weekend leave. There were stacks of actual work strewn across the floor, probably pushed off by accident. Even though he’d been known to put off paperwork before, this was a little much.

“Actually, that’s probably for the best,” he finished, finally making headway by signing the paper. Putting on what he thought was a dashing grin, he added, “I might have gotten a little carried away last night, and, well, didn’t really sleep. if you know what I mean.”

Maybe it was a testament to how bad he looked, but Hawkeye didn’t scold him; her slight frown only became more troubled. The rest of the office was silent as well. Havoc didn’t whistle, and Breda didn’t moan. Nor did Fuery get all awkward and blush like he normally did.

Noticing the tension in the room, but not having the energy to deal with it, he stood up. Roy grabbed Fuery’s paper in one hand and his coat in the other. He called out a quick goodbye to his team before leaving the room. First, he had to drop off some paperwork. Then, he hoped he could get a word in with his favorite warden.

* * *

He was not successful in speaking to the Lady Armstrong. Instead, he was intercepted by her right hand, Major Miles.

“You aren’t supposed to be here,” the man said.

“I know but―”

“I can’t allow you in. The General will have my head.”

Roy wasn’t going to give up though. Once his mind was set on something, he wouldn’t rest until he achieved his goal. It was considered an admirable trait among many, but unyielding limitations caused for unsuspecting consequences. He knew that if he wanted any chance to talk to the boy with an alert mind, it would have to be now. Who knows how many hours of consciousness he would be running on had he waited another few days.

Risking the truth and a lie, Roy said, “I understand, but new intelligence has come out about a possible accomplice. In the event that there’s a rat within these walls, I’m expected to interrogate the kid before the news has a chance of reaching him. We don’t want to give him time to formulate a story.”

Miles looked contemplative. “General Armstrong will want to hear about this.”

“Of course she would. You can tell her as soon as I reach the prisoner.” And she would be suspicious, but she wouldn’t need to search far to find that similar deaths to the Resembool Homicides had begun reappearing. Any less cautionary party would just associate the news with the original killer. With any luck, she’d stop looking there. If not… well… he doubted she would request a visit with the F ü hrer for something as trivial as him visiting his assigned prisoner a couple days early.

If it happened repeatedly… that’s another story. So he had to reassure himself today.

Roy looked up at the other man who was still contemplating his proposal. Red eyes met black in a silent battle of wills before the Major turned away. “Don’t expect me to escort you there. I’m already missing a good twenty minutes of my day by reporting your presence to the General; I’m not wasting any more.”

The Colonel allowed himself a grin in relief. “I understand perfectly, Major. I’ll see myself there then.”

“Oh, and one more thing, Colonel. Armstrong won’t be happy when I tell her you suggested a rat within our ranks. She takes pride in the loyalty of her men... so I’d be careful the next time you visit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm mad at myself for not doing this before, cause it's really shitty that I haven't, but I just want to thank you all for giving this story so much love. The kudos and comments never fail to put a smile on my face. Thank you everyone!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I have held back on naming the chapters for this fic, but I think it would be really cool if my readers could give me suggestions, especially since it’ll help people go back and find which chapter they’re on. Please leave your ideas in the comments.  
> ***  
> As always, disclaimer: I don't own FMA or FMA:B

He found the kid sitting in his cell, not really interacting with the other inmates. The actual bars were open - the regulation for daytime occupants. As people passed by 1003, they left a wide berth, appearing skittish at the sight of the small child.

Roy’s first thought was that they were cowards. It was pathetic that they were terrified of a prepubescent kid. Especially since they were hardened criminals, not common civilians. Elric must have left a pretty big impression. However he’d done so, Roy didn’t know, but it was only the logical explanation.  _ Or maybe everyone was so caught up in the rumors and lies that they didn’t bother to look further than the truth. _

That’s what Maes would say anyways.

People might have heard he didn’t need a transmutation circle to transmute. Had Roy been any less practiced in alchemy, he might have thought the cautionary runes in Briggs would be rudimentary to the boy. But no. Encountering a new variable was different than disproving a proven theory. The Fullmetal Alchemist was perfectly powerless inside his newfound home. For those who didn’t understand Alchemy… they wouldn’t know that. Their reaction to the kid would be logical.  _ Of course, he could have still done something else. _

The Flame Alchemist twitched, trying to hold in a frustrated groan. It’s fine. He could solve this right now. “Fullmetal?” The bark came out as a demand, and the tone must have been recognized because the boy snapped to attention.

Upon recognizing the face, golden eyes narrowed. From a strangely deep voice, he stiffly bit out, “You.”

“Follow me, I have some more questions I need to ask you.” He nodded in the direction they needed to go.

“What are you doing here?” the kid asked. “I thought you were interrogating me every week or so. I’d think that there’s still a few days left before you’re even supposed to be here.”

Roy stopped, reaching down to his waist where he’d conveniently forgotten the cuffs. “I need your hands,” he said, also conveniently not hearing the question.

The boy held out his hands tentatively. Before he could get the metal around his wrists, however, Elric pulled back. “I’m serious. What are you doing here?”

Roy felt his eyebrow twitch in irritation. “Like you said, I’m going to ask you some questions.”

“Then why couldn’t you wait a few more days?” _Why couldn’t you wait a few more days, Roy?_ _It’s because you’re scared, right? You don’t know what to think. You’re conflicted._

He could tell the kid was getting scared ― his words lacked his usual spunk ― but like hell he was going to admit to his own troubles.

He decided on: “Because I couldn’t”, which didn’t really explain anything, so he should have guessed the boy would have some sort of reaction. The step back wasn’t problematic, but it could be if he managed to rotate himself. He’d never live down having to chase a fifteen year old kid around the Briggs halls.

So he did need a better excuse. Unless, of course, he wanted to just tackle the kid onto the ground and wrestle on the handcuffs now to skip the chasing part. The option, though, was almost as embarrassing as the first. What he needed was a good lie. One that wouldn’t get him in trouble.

Of course!

Sometimes, he was a fucking idiot.

“Look, there’s just been news of new killings near Resembool and I need to question you on any possible accomplices before you can arrange a story with people outside.”

He worked the words around his mouth for a bit, muttering under his breath. “People outside? New killings? Resembool?”

A clear look overcame the boy’s face as he proclaimed, “New killings! Don’t you see? That means―” He cut himself off before he finished, looking around in paranoia. He never finished, but he seemed much more comfortable with offering his hands out, so Roy let it go for now.

Once entering the familiar room, they took to their former seats. The Colonel made a slight detour to cuff the kid onto the table. The boy grumbled, which was a good sign since he looked like he would run away from him earlier. Hopefully he was feeling talkative.

“So now that you know about the killings, I want to hear your thoughts about it. Your honest thoughts.”

Blonde hair covered his face as he leaned down in thought. Roy was watching for any signs of a lie, and needed to gauge body language, so it was frustrating to have the most telling features covered. If he looked hard enough, he could just see the furrow of the kid’s brow. It was sharp and scrunched, giving off the impression that he was thinking deeply. Just as he was about to restate his question (this time with a sarcastic remark), an unsure voice made its appearance. “Can I get the names of the people that have been killed?”

Determined eyes met his own. Though the sound was meek, the look was determined, and it suggested a command rather than a question.

Roy scoffed. “I need to hear your opinion on the matter first.” He needed to keep command of the situation; he was tired of feeling lost in his own game.

The boy clenched his fists in annoyance. “Fine. I hate them. I hate the fact that they happened. I hate the fact that my brother was too scared to let me leave my home for weeks. I hate the fact that as soon as I did, I was taken in by you assholes and locked up even longer. And I especially hate the fact I’m still here when it’s obvious that the culprit is still running around freely. Is that enough for you? I want the names of those killed.”

“Thank you. The first body we found was a man by the name of Johnathan Elmer. Later, it was discovered that there was also a Wesley Austin and Morgan Campbell Austin.”

Tension seemed to ooze out of the kid, and he even let out a sigh of relief.

“So I take it that you’re glad that they were killed? Maybe you had a personal vendetta or something?”

“What? No. I’d never…” Elric floundered, looking offended at the thought. He appeared disgusted that this could be mistaken as revenge.  If he even killed the victims in the first round. It reassured Roy’s theory that the killings were non-personal ― just a means to an end.

Trying to pull off the aura of a man more sure than he felt, the Flame Colonel let a smile spread across his lips, knowing that this one tended to get on others’ nerves. If they were male that is. The females…

Anyways, the kid gave into it and shouted at him. “Look, it’s just that even if my mom is dead and my deadbeat dad ain’t around, I still have people I’m close to in Resembool. I was just relieved that they weren’t hurt, not happy that someone was, you asshole!”

“Mind telling me who they are?”

“Like hell I would.” The chains rattled as the blonde tried to cross his arms… unsuccessfully.

“Ah, I thought so. Though, it’s too bad. It would help me a lot.”

“Even more of a reason to keep my silence then.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so stubborn. You probably would be safer from beatings if you just listened to others for once.”

The kid looked confused. “The hell are you talking about?” He looked at Roy like he was insane. Granted, after the sleep he’d been getting (none), he probably was.

“Don’t act like I didn’t notice. It’s pretty obvious.”

“What’s obvious?” There was that same confusion.

“The bruise. And here I thought you were smarter than you looked, Fullmetal.”

“The bruise?” Recognition took hold embarrassingly late. Roy pretended to not notice. “The bruise! I didn’t get that from a fight.”

A lone eyebrow was raised.

“I didn’t. I just woke up with it one day. I must have slept on it wrong. Besides, that’s been there a long time. You should have seen it last week.... Oh wait, you were too busy trying TO CRUSH ME WITH A BUILDING! Why is this even important anyways?”

“It’s not really, just trying to help.” The observation methods were extreme but necessary. Roy maybe sort of felt guilty for freaking the boy out, but he had to remind himself that he was a possible mass murderer.  _ Possible. Damnit. _ If Hughes was right, then he really owed the kid an apology.

_ If. _

Getting back on track, he added, “I’m still waiting on those names.”

The boy declined. “You probably already think that they’re accomplices or something.” At seeing Roy’s look, he quickly added, “They’re not, but that wouldn’t stop you from locking them up, now wouldn’t it? So no, I won’t tell you.”

It was hard to miss the kid’s bitterness. Whether it be because he was actually innocent or because he was upset at being caught, Roy didn’t know. Things were so much simpler before this case. At times he just wanted to check himself into a mental facility.

“Speaking of accomplices… That’s actually what we need to talk about.”

“Or it could… you know… be the original killer returning from his happy little vacation.”

“Please refrain from making sarcastic remarks while in my presence.. Why can’t you go back to how you were earlier? All quiet and cooperative.”

“What the hell is wrong with you people? Why do I have to act all apologetic and kiss your ass when you guys are in the wrong. I didn’t do anything!” 

Roy’s fingers twitched, itching to just snap. Instead, he had to reel in his emotions. From behind gritted teeth, he growled, “You don’t get to speak to me that way. You better not talk to me in that tone again or I’ll―”

“Or you’ll what? Hit me? Give me lashings? I’ve heard about how the government treats criminals. They’re not above torture or even murder to get what they want, so if they’ve sent you in here to get on my nerves, then I’m obviously a big enough investment for them to keep intact. The jokes on you cause I’m not your guy. I can’t do whatever it is that you want me to do, but I sure as hell will make it hell until you get that fact in your thick heads.”

He was right. Despite him being disrespectful and foul-mouthed, he was right. It didn’t matter how much Roy wanted to cremate him for his insubordination. He just wasn’t allowed. Not even allowed a tease.

So, in order to keep the power on his side of their interactions, he had to play the one card that would keep Edward Elric in line. “The military thinks that your brother is the accomplice.”

Elric bought the lie wholeheartedly.

“Are you guys insane? Don’t you remember anything about our first meeting? I told you that Al would never―”

Roy held his hand up. “If you want to prove them wrong, then you need to tell your brother that he needs to book a place to stay. Where he can be watched and questioned as we wait for any more killings to occur.”

“I’m telling my brother to get away from here as soon as he can.”

“Then I’m revoking phone privileges from you and sending out orders to detain Alphonse as soon as I get out of here.”

“You. Damn. Bastard.” The words were quiet, but that held so much caution and concern that the feeling behind them was impossible to be fake.

Flooding his voice with sincerity, Roy said, “You can stop this. All you got to do is get him to stay in Central where he can be watched.”

“He doesn’t have any money. You can’t just ask that of us.” Though there was less certainty, the reluctance was still there.

“Well, I can arrange a home for him for however long it takes to question him.”

“A home? You mean that he’ll be staying with a real family?” There was a small hope in that voice that made Roy’s lips twitch up into a genuine smile. Not just some practiced quirk of the lips. It was childlike innocence and wonder that was unbefitting of a murderer, albeit one ignorant of his crimes.

_ If only he was innocent in all this. _ It was probably for the better if the kid was guilty, because that meant that they really hadn’t wronged him. That meant that they hadn’t traumatized him for life and separated him from the only family he had left.

As Roy’s thoughts took a dark turn, so did the blonde’s mood. “He won’t be accepted into one. Not now. That’s why I need to get out and be with him. You don’t understand how lonely he gets, and he can’t sleep so all those thoughts just simmer at the forefront of his mind. This whole situation must make it happen even more so. People are going to question why he won’t take his armor off. If not for eating, then for showering and sleeping. Best case scenario, people don’t find out he’s hollow and just turn him out onto the streets. Even still, if he’s rejected by those who he deems nice and caring people, he’ll―”

“I won’t let it come to that.” He meant it. Though he couldn’t truthfully say it was for the younger brother’s best interest, it would also be bad if he let the kid run away before their killer returned. It would make too much sense on who to blame.

It wouldn’t take long for their forbidden secret to get out. And with the elder Elric’s metal appendages, the connection wouldn’t be hard to make. He didn’t want to disappoint the F ü hrer by losing him his prized prisoner. If the news got public though, an execution would be inevitable.

“Oh yeah? And how’re ya gonna do that?”

Luckily, he already had something planned.

“I know of an alchemist who specializes in bio-alchemy - a man named Shou Tucker. He’s incredibly busy and needs someone to keep his daughter company.”

He tried to ignore the soft, “If only she could accept him.”

“Though he may be shocked about Alphonse’s… er… situation, I don’t think that he’d turn him away or even report him. I can’t say that I know him personally―”

“Then I refuse.”

“―BUT the bio-alchemists I know are familiar with alchemical rebounds and know the horrors that have befallen many unlucky alchemists. Their circles are tricky and often rebound, which causes many deaths and mutations during transmutations. I feel like he could emphasize with your brother and would perhaps even work towards recovering his body.”

“I won’t have Al going around spreading the news of our greatest sin like it’s a child’s story.”

Roy tried to mask his frustration. This wasn’t a direct no, but it was close enough It was to be expected, since the kid was so protective of his younger brother, but he needed him to agree. He needed a good argument ― which he had, it just didn’t sound good in explanation. “I doubt anyone would be trusting enough to take in a kid who wears metal armor 24/7 without a worthy explanation.”

“I can think of one.”

“Then by all means, go ahead… but what are you going to do when it's been days and he hasn’t eaten?”

“He can say that he ate while they were out.”

Roy kept pushing. “And how many times is he going to have to say that before they get suspicious?”

“Just how long do you think this is going to take?”

“For as long as he remains a suspect.”

“What’s that supposed to me-. Nevermind, argh! I don’t see why he can’t continue to hop around libraries.”

“Well, for one, it would probably scare civilians.” That earned him a growl. “And two, he needs to be monitored at all times.”

“I’m sick of you people slandering my brother’s name. We didn’t do anything!” Fullmetal’s agitation was building, and as much as he should stop it before it got to dangerous levels, Roy found the banter almost amusing.

“Even if I did believe that, you still could very well be tried and imprisoned for human transmutation. It’ll get me a promotion at least”

“You stubborn, egotistical, stuck-up-”

“YET I’m willing to give your brother a chance. All you have to do is cooperate.”

“I am cooperating. If I wasn’t cooperating, you’d know it.”

“Then try harder to show it.”

The boy let out a large huff of air, resembling a dragon or some other fire breathing creature. He was hot-headed enough to be one, at least.

“Now, I’m going to continue to allow you to visit your brother this week, despite your lack of cooperation. And you are going to tell him that he will be staying with the Tucker’s while we continue this observation. And he will cooperate as well.”

“Fine. But only if I get to see him every day.”

Argh! The insufferable―. Calm.  _ Calm. _

“This isn’t a negotiation.”

“How am I supposed to tell if he’s still alive? Human transmutation is forbidden; you said it yourself. They could very well be using him as an experiment behind my back ― they’d argue the ethics as him being a criminal ― and I could be indulging you while you’re hurting him!”

“He’s in just as much danger out in the open. A giant suit of armor isn’t exactly discrete. It’s only a matter of time before someone reports him to law enforcement. I doubt that they’ll give him a chance to explain himself.”

The kid gave him a flat stare.

“Fine! You can see him every day. But if I find word that you’re lying to me, any visitations come to a halt.”

Then, the boy had the gall to give him an innocent smile. “Pleasure doing business with you.” He reached his hand out to shake, only to be stopped by metal links connecting his hands to the table.

“You’re on thin ice, Fullmetal.”

Elric raised an eyebrow. “A call every day, remember?”

“I doubt you’d let me forget. Of course, you’ll need to know that your call will be monitored. Your brother is a prime suspect after all.”

The boy looked affronted. “Are you kidding me!”

Roy moved to his feet, reaching for the key at his waist and releasing the handcuffs from their attachment to the table. “I believe that concludes our session for now. I have everything I need to know.”

The boy gave him a quizzical look. “I didn’t tell you anything.”

“No, you didn’t, but your expressions tend to reveal things anyways.”

“Reveal what?”

Roy whistled, ignoring Edward’s questions while he escorted him back to his cell.

“Reveal what, Colonel Bastard?”

Elric let his emotions rule him while he talked about his brother. Stress and worry and fondness were clearly displayed over his face whenever the subject was brought up. It didn’t appear that Alphonse had anything to do with the recent killings, which was a great relief. It was bad enough that one teenager was some rampaging murder. Though, to be honest, there were moments when he couldn’t picture Edward doing that. Roy was almost inclined to believe him when he said he was innocent.

Still, he couldn’t afford to think like that and complicate the situation. Not without some solid evidence. For now, he would set up Alphonse with the Tuckers, making sure that the kid could prove his innocence. And maybe. Maybe he could look further into the moments leading up to Ed’s arrest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh see what I mean? Longer chapter. Combining 11 and 12 would just screw up the already poorly managed chapter divisions. Anyways, yay! Roy is learning to not be such a butthead this chapter. If only his well intentioned plan wasn't destined to fail so badly...


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or FMA:B

“We’ve been examining another body.”

“Another?”

“Yeah, more than a few since I last called, actually.” Roy could hear the exhaustion in his friend’s normally chipper voice. He was relieved, however, at the news, because that was solid proof of a certain armored kid’s innocence.

“So that Alphonse kid couldn’t be the culprit…” he said.

“Roy, are you kidding me?” The Colonel could hear the disbelief pouring out of his friend in waves. “Don’t tell me that you accused him of murder as well.”

“...Not to his face.”

He could feel the tirade coming, and Maes didn’t disappoint. “Roy! I’ve already told you my doubts on Edward, and apparently you decided to not only ignore that but also rope the other one into it.”

“I haven’t talked to Alphonse about it. That’s not in my station,” he admitted. “All I did was ask him to stay in Central for a while. I was able to offer him a place at the Tuckers.”

“Ok, that’s good. Clears him of any suspicions - they shouldn’t have been made in the first place, Roy - and gets him out of danger. But that’s not why I wanted to talk to you, actually.” Maes had begun to speak in unintelligible murmurs, but they had grown clearer as he got to the point. Roy did not miss being called out, and not for the first time, he felt guilty about continuing to question his friend’s conclusion.

However, Roy wouldn’t exactly show it. “Then by all means, spit it out. Hawkeye’s got my desk piled high with paperwork and if I don’t arrive at work early, I’ll have another stack waiting with it.”

“Okay, but I need you to hear me out.”

“Maes.”

“Completely.”

“Okay, fine. What is it?”

“This death wasn’t caused by Alchemy.” 

Roy sat up in annoyance .“Then what―” He was cut off.

“I told you to let me finish,” Maes said. “Anyways, before you so rudely interrupted me, I meant that it wasn’t caused by Alchemy from an outside source.”

That piqued Roy’s interest. “Do you think you’ve found out who’s been responsible for the recent killings then?”

“Maybe. Could be a suicide, but I have no way of knowing for sure.” Those were Roy’s thoughts exactly. He didn’t think that Hughes would waste his time with a simple suicide if it wasn’t important. If this was the man that had been Fullmetal’s accomplice or even if he wasn’t, then he could use his work to help break down Edward.

“When we found the body,” Maes continued, “we thought that it had nothing to do with the Resembool homicides whatsoever. Body was fine, externally. It wasn’t anywhere near the flagged area either. Eastern Command apparently found the body and wanted to know if we could do anything to find the culprit. Normally they would have their own investigations unit, but with the riots down in Lior, their men are being used to enforce the law here.”

“Maes, you’re rambling.”

“Right, sorry. Anyways, the body looked fine, all things considered. There was some bad bruising on the forearm, but not nearly bad enough to kill. Sheska was worried about internal bleeding and wanted to consult the doctors. We phoned the hospital, but before they got to HQ, we discovered an injection mark hidden by the bruising. Figured that drugs were the reason that he was dead and all. And it’s not like we were wrong, but…”

“But,” Roy repeated, curious to where this would go.

“It wasn’t your typical drug, Roy. Blood tests indicated that it functioned as some sort of Alchemy improving steroid.” He adjusted the phone, gripping it tight as thoughts took ahold of him.

“That would explain why the alchemy looked suspiciously like the work of a philosopher’s stone.” A thought hit him and he paused. “Wait, you don’t think-”

“No, couldn’t be.” The answer came out hasty but sure all the same. Hughes knew exactly what Roy was talking about. “It didn’t come out a pure substance. My best bet is that they were trying to replicate one by using animal lives instead.”

“That still doesn’t explain how he died.”

“We don’t know. Overdose? Maybe. But it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch to say that performing alchemy had something to do with it. Barnes - that’s our victim - was pretty famous for it for a while. Got locked up for multiple brutality reports, though. According to his wife, once he came back he was never the same.”

“He was in prison? Why didn’t you lead with this? He could have been…” He could have been what? The initial murderer? Does that prove you wrong? Now that he’s released, the murders start recurring...

“I didn’t know. The brass kept it down low, but he was released under suspicious circumstances.”

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, can’t say what they were, ‘cause there aren’t any records stating them.”

That was definitely something suspicious, not to mention dangerous. Because that could mean, if he really did take part in the murders, that the military was indeed sponsoring this. Roy thought back to the last phone call he’d had with Maes. He’d know then, so who was to say that he wasn’t right about Edward's innocence as well?

Still, he needed to hear the whole story. “Wouldn’t he be a main suspect, though, when the homicides first started? I can’t imagine the public would exactly let him go unnoticed. There should be records on that, at least.”

“When we talked to his wife yesterday. She said that he’d been put on house arrest shortly after the deaths started. The first ones, at least. He didn’t leave for three weeks and by then it was apparent that he was in the clear.” Maes didn’t sound satisfied with that.

“Ok. We can’t just rule him out of the recent killings, though.”

“We won’t. Hopefully this marks the end. But, I wanted to talk to you about this tidbit of information I heard while talking to the Mrs.” He paused for dramatic effect. “She said that he’d been injecting something into his arm every night.”

“The drug?” Roy questioned.

“Most likely,” Maes confirmed. “She said he did it under the excuse of night terrors - stuff he’d gone through while serving his sentence. But she also said he would do crazy feats of Alchemy.”

“And that could be why the killings looked like they were from a philosopher’s stone,” Roy murmured.

Maes had heard him, though, and argued him incorrect. “I don’t know all that much about alchemy, but I did know to question what she meant. It wasn’t anything as grandiose as bringing pets back to life or changing one material into another. She said that he’d been able to just do… more. Instead of moving a boulder at a time at the local avalanche, it was five.”

Roy snorted. “So he got better at alchemy during his time in prison. That’s not concerning.”

“I was about to write that off as the same thing, but she said that he was extremely tired after performing it. Like, staying in bed all week kind of tired. Not all that suspicious, but he began to get sick. Upon a single glance, he’d look normal, but if you looked at how he acted, he just couldn’t function as a human being. He didn’t have the energy that a normal human being should. Then there was the bruising where he injected himself…”

“Alchemy uses up energy. Lack of energy usually results in rebounds,” Roy tried. “Under a practiced Alchemist, this is extremely uncommon, for both the reasons that they have built up endurance and they have their limits ingrained into them. I think that, maybe, this drug doesn’t create new energy so much as it brings the already existing energy to the surface. Repeated usage of this drug, and by association, alchemy, probably caused him to die via exhaustion. The bruising was probably there because the body didn’t have energy to heal itself. It’s a miracle that there wasn’t more in other places. Or maybe it was just from the repeated injections.”

Maes was silent on the other line. Whether it was from confusion or processing, he didn’t know. “But that is just a theory,” he added.

“It’s as good as any, I guess. Anyways, I thought this might be up your field of research. If you’re still looking into the kid’s case, that is.” The last part was said disappointedly. 

Roy, however, didn’t bother feeling miffed by that because a very real problem just presented itself. “Wait, you said Barnes was in prison, right?”

“Yeah, what of it?”

“Was this in Central, by any chance?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“On the kid, I noticed some heavy bruising on the neck. It was fading, but…” ‘You can never be too careful,’ is what was left unsaid.

“Holy shit, Roy. You need to make sure that he isn’t taking it. Try and stop him if you can. That stuff is probably lethal.”

He thought back on his meetings with the boy. The wild, untamable personality was at the forefront of his mind, along with his love for his younger brother. He would never (so stupidly) put himself in death’s hands because that meant that he would have to leave his brother to find a way to fix his body on his own. “I don’t think he would do it willingly,” he concluded. If the kid was being forced into it, though, Roy would be the last person to hear of it. The boy trusted him as far as he could throw him, and he was too short to throw him far.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll ask my team to look more into this drug. Do you think you’re going to get him out of there.”

Wait, when did this turn into a rescue attempt?

“I don’t know. We can’t chance him getting out if he really is responsible for those murders.”

“And if he isn’t?”

“We can talk to the Führer.”

“You know he wouldn’t risk an asset like that getting out of his sight, not after what you’ve told me he could do.”

Roy paused. Hughes was right. Even if he was innocent, Ed would never be free of the Führer’s grasp after the little show he put on for Roy. The Führer knew Ed’s potential as a weapon. He’d probably be used to teach state alchemists his trick without circles. Or, even worse, be used as a sparring dummy. Then, there was the creeping thought of, what if he knew all along? What if Ed was innocent and that was why he was kept in a cell?

Hughes cut into his spiraling thoughts. “We could consult Armstrong.”

“Absolutely not.”

“It wouldn’t be that hard to arrange an escape if we had her backing us up. Fights aren’t uncommon within prison grounds. Things happen. People don’t make it.”

“Briggs is the most secure prison that Amestris has,” Roy argued. “If a fight broke out and he managed to get ‘injured’, let alone ‘killed’, suspicions would arise. Besides, she hates me.”

“I think that you just want to believe he’s guilty to stop yourself from feeling guilty about him being innocent.”

The Flame Alchemist sputtered, but that was what he had been doing, right? Trying to convince himself that Edward was guilty so that he wouldn’t have to deal with the fact that he’d been unfairly interrogating a fifteen year old. Maybe. No. Argh! He didn’t know. Was it really just his self-conscious taking over? 

“If he was innocent, you would be a lot more contributive to this effort. So what would you do if he was innocent?”

Hypothetical, Roy had to remind himself, this is all hypothetical. This doesn’t mean that it’s true.

“If he was innocent, I would want to consult the General. Dislike aside, she will not give into bribery for power’s sake. If I was able to convince her of her innocence, together we could arrange a situation where he would have to leave Briggs. From there, a fight could be staged. The kid’s talented enough that, if we gave him the chance, he could probably create a fake body and none would be the wiser.”

There were probably other places, but if they could manage a trip near the kitchen, the least complications would arise. Most of the human composition could be found there (Roy would, unfortunately, know), and it wouldn’t be hard for them to store the missing ingredients in the place of common kitchen supplies.

The hardest part would be to make the kid create another body after the human transmutation, but it would be nothing like human transmutation. Just the carcass, nothing else. It wouldn’t even have to be that realistic. As long as it looked vaguely like the boy, he could think of a death that would make the finer details missable.

“Okay well that’s settled then! That’s exactly what we’ll do!”

“Maes!”

“What? It’s a good plan.”

“No, it’s not. There’s almost no detail to it at all. And besides, we can’t say for sure if he’s innocent.”

“Innocent or not, he wasn’t sentenced to death so I want to do everything in my power to make sure he lives. That drug kills, Roy, and if he’s being forced to take it unwillingly, then we’re just standing and watching while he’s being murdered.”

“I’ll talk to the General, okay? But I will be throwing you under the bus if I invoke her rage.”

“Well, I think I’ll be taking a vacation in East City then. Say hi to my darling girls for me, okay?”

“You’re unbelievable.”

* * *

“You’re lucky that I’ve been keeping watch over the Lieutenant Colonel, Wrath. If not, we might have just lost our most valuable sacrifice.”

“Oh? And just what have you discovered that’s so detrimental to our plan?”

“He’s been getting too close to the truth, all but saying who really was responsible for the deaths. And he’s leading the Flame Alchemist astray as well. If our little secret got out, Father would be disappointed. Are you sure putting Mustang on the job was the best idea?”

“Trust me, Lust, this will all be for the best.”

“Well then, what should I do about the Lieutenant Colonel? It’s not exactly like we can continue to go on like this.”

“I have no use for him, do as you please. Just make sure the body isn’t in too bad of a shape. I don’t want to hear the screaming at his burial.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHH I hate to do this, but Hughes is too smart for his own good. Also, I apologize for how dialogue heavy this chapter was, but with phone calls, it's kind of hard to write anything else. About chapter 12, I don't know if it showed up for you, but I'm super sorry if I hyped it up for you and it didn't. It should be up now. Anyways, make sure to stay healthy!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy FMA day guys! I figured I should go ahead and post a new chapter today after that rather long hiatus. Tell me what you think!  
> Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or FMA:B

“...and then, I got to draw with Nina and Alexander. Well, Alexander just slobbered all over the paper, but you know what I mean. Oh you should have seen the picture Nina drew. She even included you, braid and all.”

Ed smiled softly at that. “It’d be cool to talk to her sometime.” That wasn’t a lie. He really wanted to get to know the girl who could look past the armor and see his brother’s big heart. Ed had to admit, though he hated the bastard, Roy really came through for Al. The home he had arranged seemed so happy it made his heart ache.

“Oh! I could ask Mr. Tucker to let her see you. He’s really busy studying for his state certification deadline - apparently they have to get a new one every two years - so there’s not much to do.”

“Alphonse, you know that anyone who isn’t living under a rock wouldn’t want their children to see me,” he said.

“Nonsense,” his brother replied. “I told Mr. Tucker everything and he’s really sorry about what happened. He knows that you’re innocent.”

Ed felt like his eyes were bulging out of their sockets. “Wha-what? Why? Alphonse!”

A metallic giggling could be heard from the other side. “Brother, you told me to inform him of our… erm… situation. Why shouldn't I tell him about this as well? He was already so nice to prepare a place for me to stay, and besides, it wouldn’t be polite to keep secrets from them.”

“But… everything?”

“Trust me brother, it’s paying off. The Tuckers have a ginormous library and there’s so much interesting stuff. I’ve learned so much about bio alchemy. Some of this could be really useful!”

That peaked Ed’s interest. “Oh? What kind of stuff?”

“Well, there’s a lot of talk about chimeras-”

Absolutely not.

“Al…”

“I know how you feel about them,” Alphonse said, “but think about it. A lot of studies do say that in order to successfully create a chimera, they need to soulbind both animals. I’m not saying that we should condone their actions, but if we could work off of their theories, I think we might find some parallels to our bodies. Nothing I’ve found so far has discussed reversing the process, but I’ll keep looking.”

Ed was just about to comment that, no, he would absolutely not allow his little brother to research soul transmutations without him, when he spotted the crisp blue of the military uniforms - or prison guards - out of the corner of his eye. 

“Buccaneer?”

“Buccaneer? Like a pirate?” Al questioned.

“Not that Al, just someone I recognize, hold on.”

He left the phone hanging and turned to address his fellow automail user. “What do you want?” Ed asked quite tersely.

The bear of a man smirked down at him (but only because he was sitting), “Sorry, but we’re going to have to cut this call a bit short. The warden would like to speak with you.”

Ed stood up. “No way in hell. I only get five minutes a day and I’m not losing it all to talk about the next fabled crime you say I committed.”

Buccaneer sighed, “Look kid, you don’t get a say in this.” In a smooth movement, the phone was hung back up on the wall and all means of communication was cut off from the other line.

“Al!” Ed yelled, panicked. He turned to the other man and kicked him in the shin. Hard.

Buccaneer went down. “Why you damned brat!”

The blonde was grabbed by the scruff of his neck like a biting kitten (a commonplace action between the two of them, it seems) and hoisted into the air.

“Be thankful the warden wants you all to herself.”

Ed gulped, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel any remorse for doing what he did. The man hung up his little brother, for god’s sake! Teacher would do way worse...

As they left the room and Ed found himself escorted down a distantly familiar pathway, he questioned, “What exactly does she want me for?”

The other man snorted, the picture of nonchalance, and said, “Beats me, wouldn’t tell me a damn thing. Let's hope she doesn’t send you off to an early funeral, though. Finding the right sized coffin would be a pain in the ass.”

Ed was almost impressed at how the man shrugged off not being in the loop, feigning casual indifference. And he was even more impressed at how normally he was walking after earning a metal limb to the shin. That was, of course, until the short comment caught up to him.

“Hey! Just you wait a second-”

“Oh lookie, we’re here.”

Ed was shoved ungraciously inside and the large doors were swiftly closed behind him. At the center of the room was a desk, occupied by none other than Olivier Mira Armstrong, hands folded neatly beneath her chin in an ominous fashion. 

Before he could get any words out, the Major General beat him to it. “Edward Elric, take a seat.” He did as she said. “Colonel Mustang has just brought some worrying theories to light and I need to see for myself.”

From the look on her face, what the Colonel had told Armstrong was anything but good, and Ed lost any bit of gratitude he had towards the man.  _ He told her their secrets. He told her their secrets and Ed was probably going to be executed while Al was experimented in some grimy old lab. _

Hurt overcame Ed and he couldn’t exactly figure out why. It’s not like the man had done anything to endear himself to Ed. It was quite the opposite, actually. But still, there was that sick sense of betrayal because even though he hadn’t liked the guy, he still trusted him enough to reveal his story to him. And he thought Al was the naive one…

“So if you wouldn’t mind showing your neck to me.”

_ What _ ?

She didn’t waste any time, grabbing his neck in a vice-like grip and manhandling him to her satisfaction so quickly that he didn’t even see her stand up. After a pathetically short scuffle, he was bent over where he stood, cold fingers prodding at a sore spot on his neck. Ed stood frozen under her careful examination.

After a while, the warden made a sound of annoyance, releasing his neck with a hard shove. Ed found his center of balance off and fell to the floor. Slowly getting to his feet he made eye contact, liquid honey with icicle blue. Hand on her hip, tilted slightly in a rare act of feminine display, she said, “I guess that idiot Colonel is good for something after all.”

“What do you mean?”

She rolled her eyes. “Tell me, Elric, do you know what the punishment for getting into fights is here at Briggs?”

“N-no?”

“Well let me enlighten you.” Striding past him to the door, she called out, “Major! Captain! Escort our young Alchemist here to solitary confinement!”

Ed felt his breath shorten, heart quickening in its pumps. “Wait. Wait! I haven't gotten into any fights.”

She turned, looking insulted by the statement. “Oh, please, don’t lie to me. I have multiple reports from standerbys in the cafeteria - as well as my own men - that you had to be stopped from assaulting a man who tripped you.”

He despairingly watched the two men walk in. “I did no such thing! It was only-”

“AND you found your way to Solf J. Kimblee, one of our most violent and volatile inmates of this prison, as soon as he was released from his own solitary confinement. Disappearing for an alarming amount of time. That sounds rather incriminating, does it not?”

He had spent that time getting sick in the bathrooms. One of her men had to check up on him; she should know this.

“Don’t say stupid things. I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you.”

Ed cried out, in a last ditch effort to save himself from who knows how many hours of isolation and endless silence, “The bruises have been here since the beginning! Since as soon as I got to this place! I can’t have gotten them from a fight!”

She rolled her eyes, and looked to her men for a brief second, communicating silently. “Add an extra day to his punishment.”

“What? Why?”

“ _ Because _ ,” she spoke slowly, as if talking to a small child. Ed supposed that compared to her, she was. “Three weeks is far too long for a bruise of that state to last. The only possible explanation is that you’ve gotten into repeated fights. Unfortunately for you, they seem to be hitting the same area.” Turning to her men once more, she said, “Take him away. You know what to do.”

A strong arm on each side took hold of his biceps, gentle but firm as they began to pull him away. The feeling was all too familiar with the initial arrest. Non-listening ears even though it was plainly obvious that he hadn’t committed any crime. It was obvious that the jury didn’t care about his excuses or evidence. They just wanted the culprit locked up as soon as possible to stifle the public unrest. Once again, he was being accused and condemned for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Of course, this time was different. Because this time,  _ nothing had happened _ , be it by him or anyone else.

_ I was innocent. _

_ I am innocent. _

“I’m innocent!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget 3.Oct.11
> 
> I kinda went all ominous there... but now we'll finally get to the fun parts of the story, so yay!!!
> 
> I just want to say thank to to everyone who had reviewed or left a kudos or even read this story! It really means a lot to me that people are enjoying this so far! If you ever have any questions or fic requests, I have a tumblr now, so find me at TheLonelyTree


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know if any of you read the comments, but very early on I promised a short flashback chapter. This chapter was not all that short compared to some other chapters, but I don’t think you really care about that. Anyways, here you are. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or FMA:B

The day of his arrest wasn't supposed to be anything special. It was a sitting around kind of day. If anything, it should have happened two weeks before when Ed and Al had finally worked up the courage to travel to Dublith and meet their teacher. Ed had bought the tickets by himself the day before, so Al hadn't yet had the experience of the train station. He rarely went outside at all, in fact, saying that he couldn't bear the stares of all his neighbors that would surely recognize his voice. That comment had made Ed real sad, and although he tried to hide it, Alphonse was way too smart to not see behind his fake smiles.

Al never brought it up again, but the same trepidation was evident in the way he religiously avoided going outside (or any social interaction in general). It was sad to see the most sociable of the Elric brothers become a shell of his former self - both figuratively and literally.

That was why, when Ed made the decision to go to Dublith, the elder was shocked at Al's insistence to come along. The trip there wasn't so bad, the only obstacles being a few curious glances at the odd party before they boarded the train. Once they got into their booth, even that was just a distant memory. (Ed always liked to get a private car so he could sleep. Cultivating his skills into a homegrown title had its perks; the money sure proved that.)

The visit with Teacher wasn't so bad either. She did scare them half to death and gave them a lecture so long it made their ears fall off, but she wrapped both of them in a big, warm hug. Even without the ability to feel, the tension in Alphonse melted with that act, and Ed found himself almost content for the first time in four years.

By the day they left, Ed and Al were given the invite to come back any time - albeit not as students anymore - and the knowledge that Teacher would give them a call if she heard anything. In hindsight, Ed could have probably just called her and gotten the same information, but some part of him had secretly missed her, and wanted to thank the Curtis's for taking care of him while others could not. Alphonse's acceptance was just a bonus of circumstance, but he treasured it all the same.

All in all, he was immensely grateful that they went on the trip. That is, until they had to go home. Having not known how long the visit would last, Ed hadn't gotten the tickets home in advance. They headed off towards the train station remaining naive to the fact that purchasing two train tickets to a place so plagued by murders with a giant suit of armor would raise suspicions of the wrong kinds, even if he was only a fifteen year old kid.

The pair had gotten stuck with a middle class seat, which wouldn't be so bad if not for that fact that it wasn't private. Given the fact that many of the passengers in that particular class were families with young kids, they wouldn't be so trusting of Alphonse without knowing how gentle he was. Unfortunately, they had to figure it out the hard way. Stares were common enough, even when Ed went out alone (though it was because he was a pretty popular alchemist around Resembool), that they learned to ignore them. When a child marches up to pick up a toy they lost and then starts crying at the sight of them, however, that's hard to ignore.

Alphonse, sweet, sensitive Alphonse, immediately rushed to the child's aid. Hands waving in the air with a nervous gesture of peace. With a voice far too kind to fit inside his metal prison, Alphonse asked what was wrong. Ed and Winry and Pinako and anyone who knew the young boy would immediately smile up at Alphonse, thankful for his concern. This girl, however, did not know him in the slightest. Alphonse's panicked movements scared her even more, and her crying picked up into wailing shrieks.

Ed was about ready to throttle the kid, not caring about the age, because, really, _this was Alphonse they were talking about, Alphonse couldn't hurt a fly, how dare she make him feel bad_ , when a pair of military officers hiding somewhere on the train caught onto the dilemma. One of them, a female with long black hair and wearing an outfit way too tight to fit military protocol, stepped in to soothe the child, while the other, an plain looking man with a few Cretan features, asked the brothers to calmly step aside so he could ask a few questions.

Immediately stepping to the point, the man had asked if Alphonse could take off the armor, saying it in a way that meant it really wasn't a question. The brothers had looked at eachother with crawling dread on their faces - Ed's face, but the stiffening of Al's armor was evidence enough. If the military found out that performed human transmutation - the ultimate taboo of alchemy - there's no telling what would happen to them. Would Al be locked up in some lab like a miserable testing animal. Would Ed be executed for his crimes? Or would the same fate befall him, once they realized that he too survived the forbidden act?

In the kind brilliance that only two desperate children can come up with every single one of their brain cells fried from shock, one of them had the idea to argue that the suit was a type of life support system, and that exposing the younger to such a germ-filled environment without preparation would end up killing the boy within minutes.

The Cretan-looking man had such an air of distrust around him that Ed was sure they'd end up outed for sure, but the man had only ended up nodding slowly before apologizing for his behavior, and leaving to speak with his female companion.

A couple minutes later, Ed and Al found themselves in their own private booth - the official reasoning being as a sorry for their questioning, but Ed guessed it was really due to what an imposing figure his brother made. He could tell that Alphonse thought so too. The boy was silent and withdrawn the rest of the ride back. Resting his head on his hand in an attempt to get comfortable for the inevitable wait, Ed realized just how truly terrified he'd been on that train ride. His hand was still shaking even as he went to pick up their luggage leaving the train. If the man had been just a little bit more suspicious, there was no telling if the both of them would still be around for a taste of Granny Pinako's delicious stew.

That was why the day he was arrested came as such a big shock.

It was maybe three in the afternoon when Alphonse sent him out to pick up a book he wanted from the local post office. It wasn't a library of any sorts, but occasionally a member of their small town would drop off a book they got from a bigger town on one of their travels. The book wasn't on chemistry or biology or anything alchemy related, but rather one on fantasy knights from distant kingdoms. Ed happily indulged his brother because he knew it was so rare that he got to enjoy things like a child.

It deeply saddened Ed that his little brother still hadn't recovered the confidence to go out into town again, but Ed was willing to do anything to cheer Alphonse up. And, secretly, he was glad that if the infamous Resembool murderer struck that it wouldn't be him in danger. Ed knew that his brother had a suit of armor to protect him, but his compassionate heart would never suspect anyone of homicide unless he had concrete evidence. _What if by then it was too late?_ No. If only one of them was to be going into town square, it was better that Ed did the errands anyways.

Going into the post office was a little strange, because there seemed to be more eyes on him than usual, but he chalked that up to him wearing a blue jacket instead of his iconic red coat. He picked that item out to stand out in case anyone needed him; not wearing it was basically the equivalent to pigs flying. So yeah, there were more people staring at him than usual, but there was a perfectly reasonable explanation. There is always a perfectly reasonable explanation for everything.

He picked up the book, got to the counter and told the current hire about his findings, and took a few short steps out the door when, "Fullmetal."

Ed had let out a small grin at that nickname, turning his head towards the rough but warm voice. The name originally came from his younger brother Alphonse, who said that with his newfound abilities, he could rival a state alchemist. Ed had said that he'd need a nickname fitting for such a position and Al had offered 'Fullmetal'.

Ed had liked it immediately. It was strong and powerful and matched his metal arm and-

"It fits you perfectly because you're so stubborn and unyielding, brother."

Ed wanted to give Alphonse a dent on his chest plate for that.

Bad reasoning aside, Ed loved the name, and sure enough it became a signature part of their gimmick around town. The people even bought into it, calling him the hero of the people behind his back, asking for the Fullmetal Alchemist whenever they needed help.

It was all just another knife wound in his heart when he realized that they all believed he murdered their friends and family members - people he grew up knowing.

But, as that was the future, and this happened in the past, Ed didn't know the drastic consequences of answering that call. People called him "Fullmetal" when he needed help. Why wouldn't he take a few short minutes out of his day to fix a minor problem?

"Yeah? What do you need?"

The man, Issac Scott, his name was, smiled at him friendly. "I heard Barnes complaining about his gas stove when he came in to pick up his mail this morning. Don't know if he's fixed it already, but maybe you can stop by? You know better than me that if his oven suffers, then all of us suffer." More to himself, he muttered, "I swear, that man bakes bread like it was made from god himself…"

Ed's smile dropped a little at that last comment. He met Truth, who he would _not_ acknowledge as god, but that guy really was a bastard. Religious talk always made him pissed off ever since the event.

Slightly annoyed, Ed turned and raised his free hand in a dismissive gesture. "Yeah, whatever. I'll see what I can do." Maybe he'd get a free loaf of bread in thanks.

When he got close to Barnes's bakery shop in the middle of town, the smell he was met with was neither bread nor gas leakage. Instead it was a strong, foul scent that he had only had the pleasure of meeting his nose with such strength once before.

"Mr. Barnes? Mr. Barnes!" Panicked echoed throughout his voice, searching for signs of life in the dimly lit shop. The smell of blood was stronger now, and for a second he was brought back to horrible flashbacks of the worst mistake of his life.

"Mr. Barnes!"

He made his way to the only known entrance into the man's actual house, a locked wooden door just beyond the counter. Not even bothering pushing on it to see if it was open, he clapped his hands and a brilliant show of light glowed in the ominous shop.

"Mr-" Ed found his voice trailing off as he looked at the sight below him. Ruby red rivlets, still steadily flowing out of an open hole in the baker's wide chest. It reminded him too much of that night. A broken and bleeding body lying flat on the floor. Lifeless eyes staring up at him, questioning 'why' over and over again. A raspy voice, broken from pain and misery, barely managing to get out one syllable: "Ed."

Edward screamed.

Naturally, people heard him and came to his aid, carrying things as mundane as brooms to beat off whatever attacker was still lurking in the shadows. Ed was quickly helped up and ushered away from the scene of the crime, too shocked to even cry.

It wasn't until an hour later when a group of military personnel showed up and started asking questions. "Do you know what happened? Were you there at the time of the attack? Was anyone with you that could have seen the attack? Did you take part in the murder? Do you have any idea who was responsible for the murder?" A lot of the questions were the same, just phrased differently, and Ed wondered if they were asked that way on purpose to try and catch the culprit in a lie.

Ed said no to all of them.

Eventually, he was left alone in a small room that would service as his cell until everyone could be questioned. Ed was informed that Alphonse, Winry, and Pinako tried to visit but wasn't allowed in until the questioning was done.

The next part, Ed thought about a lot. He thought that maybe if he had done something, he wouldn't be where he was now, locked in some shitty isolation room inside a shitty prison with its shitty interrogators and wardens and inmates. Because, when they came for him, grim faced and impeccably dressed in their military blues, Ed remained compliant as they silently grabbed his arms, tugging him gently to their sides. He remained compliant as another one came up from behind, uncomfortably close and breathing down his neck. Ed didn't even process what was going on until he felt the cool metal of handcuffs being placed around his wrists, but by then it was too late.

For a second, his heart was gripped by cold, hard fear as he came to the conclusion that the officers from the train had found out. They had found out and told everyone his and Alphonse's secret. The feeling in his heart only worsened as logic caught up to him and he realized that it wasn't that at all. They weren't arresting him because of human transmutation. They were arresting him because they thought he murdered Mr. Barnes.

"Edward Elric, you are under arrest for the murder of 64 men and women in East State. Any and all kind of resistance will be futile. Please come quietly."

Please come quietly. It sounded like a fucking kidnapping. It _was_ a fucking kidnapping. His useless cries of "I'm innocent" fell on deaf ears as he was dragged crying and pleading away from his town. Away from his town and into the little beat up cell that he thought he would spend the rest of his life.

Later he would be informed that the witnesses had reported him covered in blood. Ed didn't remember getting anywhere near enough to the body to be covered in blood, but he supposed in his shocked state he wouldn't have remembered anything. That theory, of course, was thrown as soon as they mentioned that it had been hours earlier. They saw him walk out of the bakery hours earlier covered in a thick brown substance that they thought was mud, but it must have been blood. He must have gone to clean up and then check on the body.

That was impossible. Ed had been at the Rockbells' the entire morning before going out to get that book. He never did bring it to Alphonse. A thought came up to him though, and it made Ed want to throw up.

Hours. They'd said hours. Mr. Barnes had been bleeding out for hours before anyone saw him. It was already probably too late.

A second thought came to him and he did throw up. The murderer was getting bolder. He struck in the middle of town in the middle of the day. If he could get away with that, then what could he get away with on the outskirts of Resembool, where Alphonse and Winry and Pinako stayed. An icy feeling even more chilling than the false accusations washed over him.

Preferring to not dwell in the past, Ed began to wonder. Ed wondered what everyone was doing now. If Winry was already back home and working on her next batch of automail. If everyone at town still agreed with their earlier thoughts. Finally, Ed wondered if he would rather die than spend the rest of his life locked up in a cell, innocent and alone. But he knew he had to. If not for his sake, then for Al's. He couldn't leave Al alone. Not ever. If all he could do was silently support his brother from the sides while Al found a way to get his body back, then Ed would be there the whole time.

He rested his head on his knees, wishing that for even just a little he could see natural light once again. The blackness of isolation didn't bother him so much in comparison to the artificial light that just seemed to shout out the fact that he was a prisoner here. At least in the darkness he could pretend he was somewhere else. Still, he wanted to see sunlight once again.

As if mocking his thoughts, a crackling sounded out and metal doors began to shift open. Artificial light seeped in and Ed flinched away from the change of brightness. Useless though he knew it was, Ed mumbled a few broken, "I'm innocent"s, as if they were mantras he was using to convince himself.

An unexpected response, a short, terse laugh, echoed throughout the room. "I'm not so sure about that, but as of now, at least, you're not guilty. C'mon kid, we're getting you out of here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s this? Actual plot moving forward? Oh my goodness, I didn’t think that even existed anymore. (Also note how it’s only about three sentences.) Tell me what you thought in the comments. Once again, thank you for all of the beautiful feedback!

**Author's Note:**

> Make sure to leave reviews and criticism!


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